#its not set in stone but usually when I really vibe with a song for a particular idea then my mind is unable to be changed

[tubbytarchia]

Resistance is futile, give into the temptation. Ranchers always. Also if you did make a ranchers animatic what song would you use? Asking for a friend :D

GUYS PLEASE WHERE'S THE SUPPORT FOR THE CRYPTID YURI you guys are not helping!!! I mention ranchers once and you all tell me to give into it!!! That's very good though I'm so glad rancher support is still going so strong. I promise I'll do something for them in time but I. I need to finish the cryptid yuri!!!! Come on you fellows understand.. <3

As for the song I've tried not to indulge in finding one because... one thing at a time... but I do constantly pick out songs that'd make for good animatics as I listen to my playlists, the animatic/animation grind cannot be helped 😔✊ A lot of Sleeping at Last songs make for wonderful rancher core (particularly, mayhaps, You are Enough) but I've been pretty deadset on Hideaway by Capstan ✨

[yellowloid]

hello! I saw you made a post on the analysis of the ultracheese and honestly it was such an intriguing read! I read that that you believed golden trunks was an even more meaningful song when related to miles and alex and I would really really rEALLY love to hear what you have to say about golden trunks because honestly its one of my favorite songs

hello and thank you!!! always happy to hear people enjoy my song theories ❤️

golden trunks is one of my favourites too and i was d y i n g to analyse it. it's just such a unique song sound and lyric-wise, definitely in my top three in tbhc.

(as always, disclaimer: this is just a fan theory and everything i'm gonna say is 100% subjective. i'm not claiming it's the Real Meaning TM of the song bc 1) songs can have multiple meanings depending on the lens that is used to analyse them and 2) we'll never actually know what alex meant by writing it. we only know it's the closest thing to a love song in the album, featuring a conversation between him and someone he's falling for. nothing else is set in stone.)

but let's get to the actual analysis, shall we?

to me, this song is about miles. 100% about miles. the person he's talking to, and the person he's falling (or has already fallen) for is miles. there are theories going around on the internet saying it's about taylor or even louise, which are both??? kinda senseless theories??? first let's talk about taylor: why would he create that same sense of secrecy (that is present in songs such as the ultracheese) in this one, if it were a song about his (at the time) girlfriend? why would he add that 'we're friends but i'm falling for you' vibe (that we can find in diwk too) in a song about his current partner? why would he admit to fantasising about that person (keyword: admit, like it took him some time to come to terms with it) in a song about his so of literal years? tbh it doesn't make any sense to me.

and then louise... a bit more plausible since it would at least explain the secrecy if he was cheating, but then again, still doesn't really make sense. what's with the wrestling references. i don't think she's a wrestling fan, and if she is, she's never publicly shown she is. not that she needs to, ofc, but... you know. this theory usually comes from twitter fans who can't even bear the idea of it being about miles, because god forbid someone ever mentions the idea of alex and miles being a thing!!!! so really considering the source of this "theory" is twitter i wouldn't give it much more thought lmao

so now onto the lyrics...

"last night when my psyche's / subcommittee sang to me in its scary voice / you slowly dropped your eyelids / when true love takes a grip, it leaves you without a choice"

this is such an interesting and powerful opening verse to a song. it's so cryptic, and at the same time so blunt. he admits to being a victim of night-time overthinking, that moment when you keep tossing and turning in bed and sleep just won't come to you, dooming you to unwanted thoughts, realisations and fears coming together to haunt you through the night. he's scared of those voices in his head, whispering all those truths to him that he doesn't even want to consider; his mind is being flooded by snaps of the person he's maybe trying not to think too much about, but at the same time he knows it's a losing game: there's no choice to be made, no power held over the images that keep shooting through his mind. he also seems to realise something about the person in question: the possibility of them being his "true love" (or, similarly, him being this person's "true love", hence them admitting to fantasising about him). once again, this is extremely important because he rarely ever refers to love so directly in his songs, and i don't think it's a coincidence he does it here as well as in the ultracheese. having no choice could also refer to him finally coming to the realisation that - despite the fact that he's still so scared of the whole situation - he can't run away anymore. there's no choice, he has to acknowledge the facts because they're all there, hiding in plain sight. there's no way he can escape the truth, and that terrifies him. but he does acknowledge it, as he sings:

"and in response to what you whispered in my ear / i must admit, sometimes i fantasise about you too"

i can just so easily imagine him and miles sitting entirely too close to each other in some booth at a bar, the unspoken boundaries of friendship getting blurred as too much alcohol gets in the way, and miles leaning closer and closer to him just to whisper in his ear that he sometimes fantasises about him in ways friends shouldn't. or as they rehearse their songs right before/during the eycte tour, which always reminds me of this quote:

MK: I remember, one time Alex came up to me and said "I want to see how you spit, while singing "sick puppy" in Bad Habits. I called him a madman afterwards.

AT: Yeah...

MK: But he was right. No one else would say something like that to me, It was beautiful.

AT: You see, Kasia, I just tell Miles about my fantasies, and he tries to fulfill them, even when they are very kinky, like in that case.

(full interview here)

or even during concerts, since we all know how much they loved whispering god-knows-what to each other during song breaks, then proceeding to giggle and flirt with each other like they weren't being watched by an entire crowd sksldklsh. they seemed to be self-aware of this, as they also used to take the piss and play with interviewers when asked about it:

Interviewer: What sort of things do you say to eachother on stage?

Alex: Dark, twisted and very private things.

Miles: You'd think we were freaks if you knew some of the things we talk about on stage. We talk about weird things that don't really make sense to anyone else.

(i think this is from nme, i haven't been able to find the original interview but you can read something more here)

however, imo alex admitting to fantasising about the other person in this song makes his confession so heartbreaking. a while ago me and @jewellersstunts were talking about the fact that it's just so easy to imagine miles whispering something like that to him, maybe during a concert, and him being taken by surprise + generally bad at expressing his emotions through spoken words + him being insecure about their situationship and his identity and just... not saying anything in reply. maybe brushing it off as a joke, when in reality they both knew it wasn't. now, following the fandom theory of them still being friends but having some kind of falling out after the eycte era due to the unclear nature of their relationship - miles getting serious and alex chickening out -, let's fast forward to a couple of years after the tour. when things aren't the same anymore and alex is there, all alone by himself, dwelling on the past, on what once was and what could have been... and him finally finding the courage to give miles a reply through the veil of song, because that's the only way he could ever really be able to express his emotions in some kind of neat fashion (+ i think a similar development was also featured in one of WeirdChick333's fics which as we all know are the canon milex bible so there's that)

i also can't help but think of miles' own album when i think of this song. whereas golden trunks is filled with regret and it's like saying "i didn't give you a reply when you said it, but i'm saying it now. it probably doesn't change anything though, and i'll have to live with that for the rest of my life", coup de grace as an album (and may i say, ESPECIALLY wrong side of life which is my absolute favourite miles song ever) is like saying "yeah you didn't say anything then. you broke my heart and and you keep breaking it every single day, we fought so much and nothing is the same anymore, but i don't care because i want you and you want me, so can we please, please try again?". i think that's really telling of their personalities. tbhc as a whole has a very pessimistic vibe, even though it rarely ever addresses private matters that directly (with golden trunks and the ultracheese being the most direct songs, but still being incredibly cryptic and mysterious). cdg is sad and angry and heartbroken about a nasty breakup, but in general i'd say it still holds some kind of hope for that relationship to be salvageable.

but i'm digressing. let's keep going:

"the leader of the free world / reminds you of a wrestler wearing tight golden trunks / he's got himself a theme tune / they play it for him as he makes his way to the ring"

the reference to wrestling (and possibly to something that actually happened) could be a way for alex to make it clear, even to miles himself, that this song is about him. if it were indeed something that actually happened (them watching a wrestling match or the news, and miles pointing out trump's similarity with that wrestler), then when miles listened to the song - if he still had any doubts - it'd be irrevocably clear to him that alex was talking to him. it'd be some kind of secret code, an inside joke between them turned into a way for alex to make sure miles knew. (also lmao at the twitter fans going to great lengths to prove this verse is about taylor or louise when they've never expressed any interest in wrestling while miles has been a big fan for ages. @ amtwitter bffr)

now, i don't remember if he's referring to an actual wrestler that wore golden trunks as part of his costume and that reminded miles of trump, but the mention of wrestlers in general also reminds me of a very interesting addition by @reconciledviolence729 to my ultracheese analysis. she said:

"For some reason I got fixated on the line: “And dress like a fictional character / From a place they called America / In the golden age.” I can’t help but think how Miles dressed as Ric Flair, who was a significant persona during the “golden era” of American professional wrestling (which is often considered at least somewhat faked aka fictional)."

going back to golden trunks, this verse also introduces some kind of indirect commentary on politics, which is present in other songs from the album and which continues in the next lines:

"in the daytime / bendable figures with a fresh new pack of lies / summat else to publicise / i'm sure you've heard about enough"

(quick aside: "bendable figures" could also be interpreted as a very suggestive image. not gonna elaborate any further on that)

in this reddit theory it is suggested that this mirrors the "breaking news, they take the truth and make it and fluid" verse from american sports, and i think that's a very interesting parallel. however, this part also introduces a contrast to the opening line (last night / in the daytime) which hits us with a sinister dilemma. we like to think that the (often pessimistic) conclusions about our life that we come to at night aren't to be trusted. nighttime does that, it tends to fuck with our rationality by making everything seem scarier, more threatening and disheartening than it usually is. our minds tend to lie to us at night. but here he says that the "fresh new pack of lies" comes during daytime. so what's more trustworthy, night or day? the scary, truthful voices of night or the blatant lies of day? he doesn't give any clear answer to this question. he just leaves us with the doubt, instead bringing the song to a close with newly-found courage:

"so in response to what you whispered in my ear / i'll be upfront, sometimes i fantasise about you too"

the difference with the previous "i fantasise about you too" line is obviously the use of "i'll be upfront" instead of "i must admit" - which is such a slight change, but it's still so important. the use of 'must' and 'admit' imply a certain degree of forceful admission. he finds he can't hide it anymore, and has to at least take notice of it in some way. he doesn't necessarily want to admit it, because he wishes he could still keep that confession to himself. on the other hand, saying "i'll be upfront" is so powerful on his part. he not only acknowledges the feeling, but he takes a big breath and finally comes forward, announcing it without any second thoughts. he finally finds the right way to actually reply, even if it took him so long to do it. and yes, maybe it won't change anything, but this song is a way for him to send out a message, and the fact that he managed to write it and include it in the album (despite never being able to play it live - which makes it even more sus) is a testament to how much of his heart he put into it, how much deep emotion and reflection and courage it took him to be able to compose it and sing it. and that's exactly what makes it so incredibly special.

[theworstzangooseever]

Daily VGM #4: Are you an Alpha or a Beta kind of gamer

I wanted to talk about a track from the Minecraft OST today, but ran into a small issue when looking into the OST as a whole. The first video that popped up for the apparent ENTIRE soundtrack was 11 hours. Scared that I has missed an entire extra album or two of the soundtrack I had never heard, I checked and realized that no, the extra 5+ hours were simply just the soundtracks of the mashup texture packs on console versions, or as they are now known, Bedrock Edition.

But even then, 5 hours (and 2 minutes) of music! Where the heck would I start.. Then, it hit me. Why not from the beginning, with Minecraft - Volume Alpha, composed by C418. You likely know who C418 is at this point, as he was popularized BY his work on the Minecraft soundtrack, making a whole 57 songs for the game. Before then, his albums were mostly small 4-8 song experiences with similar vibes to Minecraft’s music, with one other game OST under his belt beforehand, for a game called Catacomb Snatch. Almost looks like Smash TV fused with Spelunky. After composing for Minecraft, his music career seemed to go quiet for a while. An album in 2015, one in 2017, another in 2018, and then for a couple years, complete silence. In 2021 though, C418 returned with the masterpiece that is the Cookie Clicker OST. I’m serious, go check it out. It’s great.  But, yeah. Right. Minecraft Volume Alpha. I apologize for the very long aside.

The reasoning for the album title is for the fact that, well, this was made for Minecraft when it was in its Alpha stage of development. Back before things were really set in stone in terms of where they game was headed concept-wise. Volume Beta follows afterward, being the tracks that were added in the Beta stage of the game. Dangit I rambled AGAIN I’m so sorry. Let’s actually get started on talking about the music itself. 

The song many people know best is likely Living Mice. This is usually the song you’ll hear in those videos of “remember when you were a kid” and shit. I love this track a ton, with its piano and sweeping tune that gets me ever so emotional.. But it’s not the one I want to talk about. But, I hear my inner self cry out, what about the equally as classic Moog City, that is so indubitably one of the most known Minecraft tracks, as it is one of the title screen songs for the Alpha stage of the game! Yeah, I love that track too. With its amazing rise, as more and more instruments are added, until it’s purely the piano and violin, rising and rising and rising, until you can finally breathe again, and are left with a lingering piano note, sounding ominous almost as the song fades out. Or what of the classic of all classics, the self titled song Minecraft, that is so peaceful and lovely to listen to when walking home as the sun sets, playing with the utmost perfect timing.  No.  I love the odd one out, Droopy Likes Your Face. “That’s cheating!” You cry out, “Droopy Likes Your Face isn’t even a song that plays in-game!” Yes! I don’t care. That’s what makes me love it even more. Droopy Likes Your Face is such an odd track in terms of the rest of Minecraft’s songlist, it almost feels like a vent song that C418 made to get the weird out of his system. With the instrumental being so absolutely amazing, a rising back-and-forth that C418 is so good at, topped with a beginning with words that are absolutely not understandable at all, with these weird lyrics that just keep repeating-

Droopy looks in a cave.. No one is there. Droopy looks under a tree.. Droopy is enormous.

Like. It’s just perfect. Droopy Likes Your Face would fit right into the game as a music disc I feel, along the likes of Cat, but I get why it’s not in the game. It’s kinda like an Easter egg, for those of us that bothered to buy the OST, or just listen to an upload of it on YouTube or on Spotify. It’s just too goofy to be in the game, and I get that. But I still love it, possibly as much as the rest of the soundtrack. 

Though nothing will top the likes of Wet Hands to the rest of the world, I love Droopy, and the fact that he likes my face apparently. I like you too, Droopy. Whoever you are.

[bokettochild]

request: sometimes time likes to be alone underwater. with his iron boots and zora helmet, it's easy to just take a stroll at the bottom of a deep enough lake, away from the rest of the world. he did not expect, however, to find legend relaxing inside a small hole in the stone. Mer Legend.

Oh boy! I was vibing with this one for a while, I just wanted to make it perfect!

I'm pretty happy with what I made too, but man is it long!

(I hope this makes you happy, anon!)

When he and Malon have kids, he hopes they don't have this many.

Nayru knows he loves his boys, but they can get a bit much sometimes. They can get loud and overwhelming, and as a man who’s used to traveling primarily alone, with maybe a fairy trailing behind him or his trusted mount, it’s a bit overwhelming. He’s not used to being around people so much, Malon and Talon are his only consistent company and even then, the work they share means that often times it’s only him and his thoughts as he mucks, mends and tends things around the ranch.

Sometimes, when the boys get especially rowdy and playful, it’s just nice to get a moment of quiet to himself. Between Sky and Twilight he knows that nothing overly chaotic will go down, and he trusts the boys to keep each other in check.

So, when they come to the Pup’s Hyrule, their battle in this world over and most of their number restless as they wait for the next portal to arrive and whisk them away, Time allows his boys their space, and with a quick exchange with the only two he can trust to not burn something down (at least while the younger ones can still see them) he heads off into the forest to get a little space to himself.

Of course, he can’t really go far, not if he needs to hurry back, but he doesn’t really need to. His destination is Lake Hylia, which is only a short distance from their camp, maybe ten or fifteen minutes, and, when he gets there, he allows himself to actually breathe for once.

Wild, Warriors and Wind had been locked in a game of cards when last he left, the champion soundly beating the other two both at cribbage while Wars bemoans his poor luck, and Twilight and Sky were discussing wood carving with Hyrule, with the occasional comment from the smithy, who is only too happy to throw in something related every so often as he looks up from his book. That leaves himself and Legend, and he’s long since learned that the vet was one to disappear for his own space when possible.

He’s not overly worried. Legend has items and experience that far outmatch most of their group, and if he runs into trouble Time has little doubt that he’ll be able to get himself out of it to at least gather reinforcements, if not handle the issue by himself.

A deep breath of relief escapes him as the eldest of the heroes pulls a few items from his own bag. The boots are a familiar if not welcome weight as he slips out of his armor and dons the tunic and cap of the Zora, his breath bubbling softly as he steps into the lake before him with a contented sigh.

The cool water floods over the top of him, tugging at his hair and bubbling in his lungs, but it’s doesn’t burn the way that it should. He breathes easily beneath the rippling surface of Lake Hylia, the Zora tunic granting him freedom beneath the waves.

There is little sound beneath, only the muffled noise from above the surface, the flow of the water and-

Time’s ears prick forwards as a single blue eye turns to search the space around him.

Someone is singing.

It’s a haunting sort of melody, one that draws you in and makes you dazed, and Time finds himself stumbling over his own feet as he searches for the source. It is not a Cursed song, nor anything powerful from what he can recall, in fact, it’s almost familiar. It sounds similar to something he hears hummed about their camp at night while the boys take watch. He’d never been able to place which of the young heroes hummed the lilting melody, but he’s let it carry him off to sleep many a time before. Only this song, the one that twines about his head and whispers in his ears and makes his feet trek closer and closer to its source, this song is different, it’s haunted and Broken, and it is sung in a Voice.

Not a voice like most of those above the surface have, but a Voice like a fairy or spirit might have. One that pulls at your very soul and sings in your mind, un-hampered by wind or waves, able to carry across miles to be heard by those that it Sings too.

Heavy feet trod faster.

He’s under no spell, but he is a Link, and by now he has learned that all of their kind are blessed or cursed with courage and curiosity both, and to be without the latter is simply unthinkable for the young-at-heart hero. Something –the forest imp in him maybe- tells him to find the Voice, find the Singer.

He’s only made it part of the way across the lake, hasn’t even left the shoreline properly, when the song stops. Unease creeps over him as he looks around, alert and ready for trouble, only to see nothing but the peaceful stillness of the lake bottom around him.

There! His mind supplies as something pink flits in the corner of his vision, and he’s whipping around to come face to face with-

Long tangled hair drifts in the waves as glistening scales reflect the light pouring down through the waves. Too deep, too dark eyes stare at him in shock for a brief moment, and then-

The creature, the thing, is gone in an instant. Whipping away as it’s glimmer fades into the waves around him, speed no doubt granted by the brilliant tail of the thing sending it rocketing out of his grasp before he even has a chance to speak.

He tried to follow it. He does! But quite soon the adult part of his mind is reminding him how dangerous the thing could be, and that he still has his boys to return to back on the surface. It’s been exactly thirty-two minutes and thirteen seconds since he left them at their camp, and by now they usually would have sent someone to check and make sure that whatever member of their party had strayed off was alright.

Removing his boots is all it takes to float to the surface, despite the fact that he still holds the things in his hands, and it’s with no small amount of relief that he realizes that the bank of the lake is free of other heroes.

Time gathers his things together, wringing out his hair and clothes before returning to his normal gear and heading back to the camp.

Smiles and chuckles greet him as the young heroes tease.

“Go for a swim, Old Man?” Legend quirks a brow, staring up from his place by the fire.

Time doesn’t answer him, but he does shake his head violently enough to spray the younger heroes with water, earning shouts and shrieks from them as they try and shield themselves from the wet. “Seriously, Time?” Warriors moans, wiping lake water from his face. “What are you, a dog?”

Time smirks at the captain and, to everyone's surprise (which produces no small amount of delight for him), he barks.

“What sorts of people have you met in your adventures?” Sky asks a couple of days later, head cocked to the side as he watches his brothers. “You all talk about so many races, but I don’t think I've heard of most of them.”

“Well,” Wild smiles, there’s a glint in his gaze that isn’t quite mischief, but it’s a warning to be wary anyway, because they all know what a crack-pot their cook can be at times. “There’s Hylians, of course, and Sheikah, Yiga, Gerudo, Rito, Gorons, Zora and koroks! You’ve probably already met the Sheikah, since you mentioned knowing an Impa during your journey, and the Yiga are an offshoot of that group.”

Twilight blinks and stares, Warriors furrowing his brow as he two older heroes stare at the younger, but Wild seem entirely unaffected.

“Gerudo are a desert people. They’re really tall, and extremely strong! Most of their race have long red hair and slightly darker skin than the people around Hyrule. They are a society of all woman, with only one man being born to them every hundred years. They worship the goddess Din for the most part, and live out of an opulent city set in the desert where they specialize in the crafting of weapons and jewelry, and the farming of exotic plants.” The champion then proceeds to run down traits and knowledge about the other races, matter-of-factly, as if the details he is sharing are things that everyone from the surface knows.

“Wow.” Sky laughs as Wild finishes. “I had no idea.”

“There’s also the minish.” Four adds. “And the Wind Tribe, who are sky people, of course.”

Sky looks curious, but Four says nothing more, instead gesturing to the other heroes to share their thoughts, which they do.

“Terminans.” Time offers. “Very similar to Hylians.”

“Ordonians.” Twilight adds with a fond smile. No explanation is needed.

The others all nod along, but Legend rolls his eyes. “Humans, like, non-Hylian humans, Shifters,” The vet stares upwards with a light scowl as he ticks the races off of his fingers. “Technically they’re humans too, but Wild counted the Sheikah and Gerudo, so there’s also the Lorulians, Labrynninians, Holodrumese folks, Hytopians, Drablanders, Subrosians, Catalians-” Legend frowns. “I could swear there are more but I can’t really recall.”

Time, for whatever reason, he can’t really say why, cocks his head. “Any water people other than Zora?”

The vet snaps his fingers. “Mer-folk! Thank you, Time. I guess fae and animal folk count on that note.”

There’s a scoff and Warriors is leaning forwards with a smirk. “Fairies and animals, sure, but mer? Seriously, Legend? Have you even met a mer before?”

“Many times.” The veteran drawls, cocking a brow in the captain’s direction. “On multiple adventures. What about you, cap? Jealous you couldn’t snag one for your guild of brides?”

Warriors blusters about indignantly, earning laughter from the others as Legend smirks, but the man recovers quickly enough. “I do not have a guild of brides! That is- that is utterly disgusting!”

“Could have fooled me.” Legend teases, sipping some water from a flask.

“Give him a break.” Twilight snickers, shoving the vet playfully.

The unfortunate thing about Twilight’s shoves though is that the ranch hand doesn’t seem to know his own strength, and Legend is small enough that the light push is enough to send him scrabbling to not hit the ground. More laughter rings about their camp, but this time at the vet's expense, as Legend topples over into the dirt, spilling his drink and failing his arms as he goes.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Legend huffs, pulling himself back up and dusts off his clothes, scowling at the water spilled on him. “Great.”

“Oh, come on, you came back soaked to the skin earlier, what’s a bit of water going to hurt you, huh, vet?” Warriors ribs, smirking.

Legend shoots him a half-hearted glare.

“Legend,” Time starts slowly. “How would you describe the mer?”

The vet pauses, gaze resting maybe a moment too long as his hands as he brushes off the hem of his tunic. He’s already done so and there’s really no reason for him to do it again, but he does anyway. “What you’d expect.” He shrugs haltingly. “Hylian on top, fish beneath. Tail, long hair, that sort of thing.”

The old man hums. Legends ears twitch, nose shivering slightly as violet eyes flit over their group. “Care to expand on your sky people story, Four?”

“I’m good.” The smithy replies lazily.

Time would pass it off as a strange one-time thing, he would, but there are... other factors at play.

They’ve traveled to Four’s time, fighting off monsters and solving puzzles the same as they’ve always done. The boys are taking some downtime, playing hide and seek, and just like the last time, Time takes himself down to the river they’ve made camp ear and dons his Zora gear.

He isn’t expecting to see the creature, the mer, again, much less hear them singing -after all, this is a Hyrule far before his Pup’s- but there the creature is. It- or they- frolic in the water, chasing fish and singing softly. The tune is lighter than the last one he heard, a different song entirely, but there is no denying that it is the same mer.

Gold flecked, petal pink scales shimmer beneath the twisted lights that invade the water, hair of the same colors flowing in the current as long fingers, tipped with pointed claws, reach out to swipe at the fish swimming wildly away. They don’t catch anything, but Time hears it giggle anyways, the tune of its voice bubbling in merriment as it rolls like and otter and turns to explore some other part of the river bed.

The cursed curiosity of a hero niggles in Time’s mind. How is the same mer from before in this timeline, ages before Twilight would even be born? And why do they play and explore as if they’ve never seen this river bed before in their life?

Long claws pull through sand, and although their hair blocks their face from his view, he can still hear the warble of delight as the creature removes something sparkling and bright from the river bed. The mer floats in place, turning the item over in their hands curiously before whisking it out of sight and returning to their search.

A mer that likes treasure, huh? Why is he unsurprised?

His own soft laugh startles them, and for a half of a moment, golden ringed, violet eyes, wide and bright and full of shock, meet his own.

The mer is gone before he can make a move.

He asks Legend about it the next day. As they travel along the path towards the nearest town, Time falls back to ask the vet more about mer.

“Do mer like treasure?”

Legend starts, eyes wide as they meet his own, and something in the back of his mind is nagging him that the look in the vet’s eyes is somehow familiar. “What?”

“Do mer like treasure?” He repeats himself.

Legend stares at him, blinking slowly as they continue along the path, but eventually the vet shakes his head and answers. “Depends on the mer. They’re people too, Time, they can have varying interests and hobbies. There is no standard for mer. None.”

“Don’t they all swim at least?”

Legend’s gaze is flat. “There are disabled Hylians aren’t there? Not all Hylians can walk, and not Mer can swim. Some just choose not to because they don’t like it!”

Time frowns. How does the vet know so much about mer culture? “How do you know this?”

The vet shrugs, eyes darting away. “I’ve been a lot of places and met a lot of people. Mer are no exception.”

“I thought you hated swimming and the water?” Wind breaks in, falling back to join the two of them with an odd look on his face. He looks like a puppy and it’s killing Time not to ruffle the kid’s hair.

“Didn’t always.” Legend returns, smiling wryly down at the sailor. “But enough of that. The real question here is if you’ve ever met one, sailor.”

“A mer?” Wind furrows his brow, looking away with a soft sigh. “The water in my world isn’t safe for the people who lived in it. There’s hardly even any fish in most places. The Zora in my time had to adapt to the air instead in order to survive.”

Awkward silence falls over them, the vet looking guilty for a half a moment before he settles a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “The goddesses aren’t always fair, Maliit, it’s not your fault.

Time hums his agreement, heart aching for yet another young hero and a world that suffered for Time’s failure to have properly saved it.

He sees the mer again. Not just when he’s in the water himself, but when he’s keeping watch during the night or on occasion when he goes fishing with Twilight. The Pup says nothing about seeing gold and pink beneath the water, but Time finds himself watching it all the same.

It darts beneath the dock they’re fishing on one time, and when Twilight’s line gets a tug, the rancher pulls it up only to find the one of his boots dangling from the other end.

Time can’t help it, he laughs.

So, this mer is a prankster, huh?

He takes to seeking them out, trying to catch their attention or try to talk to them, but nothing works. The minute that gold and violet eyes meet his own, petal pink scales flick deftly in the waves and the mer is swimming away.

But Time isn’t dumb.

He knows that the same mer cannot reasonably exist across all of time, not with all the changes that come to the world with each hero. He knows that this being is somehow following them, and h’s got a rather good idea exactly how it’s happening.

It’s a long shot, but he knows for a fact that Legend is always gone from camp before he sees the creature, and enough times startling the vet when asking about mer has taught him that the expressions between the two are the same. All he knows on the mer’s face is shock, but the vet’s eyes glimmer the same shade of violet, even if they are different in size and shape, and the petal pink hair that the vet comes out of the forest with one evening after their group was separated is uncannily similar to the shade of the mer.

They’ve made camp again, and rather than climbing into the water when he catches a moment alone, Time settles on the shore, not in the mood to be in the water but in need of its calming song. The air has been tense the past few days, and Time welcomes a brief moment to relax, forcing himself not to think of the gaping wound in his Pup’s side or the ragged breath that wheezes between the rancher’s lips.

Twilight will be fine, he reminds himself. Hyrule and Warriors had worked together to tend the wound and while it would definitely leave a scar, the danger of losing their beloved friend and brother (and maybe son?) is not so high anymore.

He welcomes a free breath, away from the hurt gazes of his boys as they try and process that their beloved canine friend and the rancher are one and the same. A chance to think without having to stop those who were out of the know from bombarding those who were in it with questions.

He’s glad to be free of the questions himself.

Legend seems to be too, if the glint of pink beneath the waves is to be believed.

He doesn’t approach this time, doesn’t try entering the water to speak. He’s tired and he wants his spae, and he imagines Legend would like his own too. So, instead, he sits on the bank, feet trailing in the water and ocarina on his lips as he plays softly.

The tune is a sweet one, one he’d written himself that lilts and dips softly, very nearly perfect for a dance, but far more suited to a night by a fire or watching the sunset. And sunset it is, fading light stretching out across the water, glinting of the surface and reflecting off of gold and pink-

He stops, eye wide as he turns towards the flash in his vision.

Gold and violet stare back at him, framed in curling pink as Legend freeze half-way through pulling on his tunic again.

Gold fades just as the scales dissapear and leave the vet siting on the shore, tunic still bunched around his shoudlers and violet eyes wide with fear as he regards his leader.

“I won’t tell.” Time forces, turning away his gaze and returning his focus to the instrument in his hand. He doesn’t play, but he doesn’t look up either.

“It’s an item.” Legend forces, strained. His voice is still tainted with whatever power had shifted him between forms, and it’s sweeter and more melodious than normal. “I found it on my third adventure. Got cursed.”

“Like the rancher?” Time hums softly, not having to look up to know that Legend is shifting nervously, foot tapping madly at the ground beneath him.

“Yeah.” Legend huffs.

“Okay.” And he does look up them, calm and as open as he can make himself seem as he meets the vet’s gaze.

“Just okay?” One brow cocks as Legend crosses his arms.

“Just okay. It’s your secret, Legend. I can’t change what I’ve seen, but I won’t tell the others either.”

Legend nods, wary bit willing to accept the words, if only for now. “If you say so.”

They’re on their way back to camp, Legend carrying an armload of fish and Time carrying both of their bags when the vet stops and glares at him. “I don’t want to hear any jokes, alright? I get enough of those from Twilight and Sky.”

“They know?” The old man tilts his head in question.

Legend flushes, ducking his head and setting off again at a speed some might label a scurry. “No. Hurry up, these fish are gonna rot!”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waves lap around his head and it’s all Time can do to break the surface, coughing and hacking as he struggles to remain above the water.

The portal had come at the worst time ever, and no one had been ready to be dropped into the center of the ocean.

Lightning crackles overhead as waves swirl and crash about him. The ocean rages and Time is again reminded how small Hylian’s are in the face of Mother Earth herself.

“Boys!” The shout rasps from his throat as he spins to look about, praying to every deity he knows that he’ll find the rest of them safe and sound, or at the very least together. Never mind that Twilight still can’t walk, much less swim. Never mind the smithy’s shattered arm and Wild’s fear of the water. He can’t panic about those right now, he has to find them!

“Over here!” Sky’s voice answers him. The Chosen Hero clings to the shivering form of the smithy, both are soaked and trembling, but they’re managing to stay above the waves.

“My Hyrule!” Wind calls out as Time strikes out towards them, and the sailor continues once he’s close enough to see that at least five of his boys are safe. “We’re near land,” Wind nods in a random direction and Time wonders briefly how the sailor even knows that. “It could be a challenge in these waves, but we can make it. Have you seen the others?”

Hyrule looks up at him hopefully, the water-logged traveler fighting madly to stay above the water but succeeding despite the waves. Time reminds himself to help the boy learn to swim more effectively later, and more importantly how to properly tread water, but for now he focuses on answering Wind. “You're the firsts. We’ll have to hope the others are alright, getting y’all to safety is my first concern.

“But Wild!” Hyrule splutters, choking on some water as Time swims over to give the traveler someone to cling to. Freezing fingers latch ahold of his armor as teeth chatter, the waves are neither kind nor warm and with their health as it is he’s certain someone is going to end up with a cold when this is all over. “And Twilight! A-and Legend and Wars! They’re out there somewhere!”

“We have to hope Legend and Warriors can elp the other two. We can’t do them any good if we’re fighting to stay above ourselves.” He tries to same calm, but his own mind and heart scream with the same message that Hyrule’s voice does, and its all he can do to push it down.

Thunder rolls overhead and waves beneath as they push off towards the shore, each of the older heroes aiding a younger one as Wind guides them all towrads the supposed island.

Time hs never been so relieved to see sand in his life, and as Hyrule pulls himself up the bach and Wind helps Sky to settle Four, Time can only pray that he’ll find his way back again. “I’m going to look for the otehrs. Wind, stay and help Sky.” The sailor looks as if he wants to hesitate, but he knows better than anyone how a small body can be lost to the waves much easier than an adult. “Make a fire, warm up as best you can. Keep an eyes out. I’ll come back if- when I find the others.”

He stops only to shed his armor and don his Zora gear, but a single dive beneath the water is enough to tell him that it’s for naught. Wind wasn’t joking about his water being toxic, and a single breath of the stuff leaves Time heaving as soon as he breaks the surface.

His chances of finding the boys have lowered considerably.

Nayru above, don’t let anyone have sunk beneath!

Time swims for all he is worth, pushing past weariness as he battles each and every wave. And he’s just beginning to lose hope when he catches sight of something silver reflecting in the water as lighting flashes above.

“Time!”

Blue whips around to meet its twins as Warriors comes to swim beside him. “Have you found any of the others?”

“Wind, Sky, Hyrule and Four.” he breathes back. “You?”

The captian looks rueful but nods to his side. “Legend.”

Time can’t help but start as Legend’s eyes peek above the surface. Golden and violet are glassy in the pale ace of the vet, but they’re there and that means that Legend is alive.

“I’ve officially met my first mer.” Warriors sighs, but there’s worry in the captains voice and face both.

“Split up.” Legend’s voice rasps, and there none of the melodic song that Time is used to hearing from this form of the vet.

Legend is pale, far too pale.

“What’s-”

“Wind’s world.” Warriors tells him. “Water here is toxic.”

The water is toxic. The water, which mer have to breath to stay alive, is toxic.

Time’s gaze shoots to the vet but there’s only a flick of gold and pink as he disappears beneath the waves. Warriors groans.  “He keeps doing that! I swear, I have no way of knowing if he’s even still there, but he still insists on disappearing like the little shit he is.”

Usually, Time would scold his brother for such a tone, but he knows that Warriors is just sacred. He’s terrified, and it leaks into his voice and his actions, and the only way that the soldier knows how to hide the fear is by biting back with venom, not dissimilar to the vet’s own actions.

They swim together, searching and calling out for the two missing heroes. Hope is beginning to fade and Time can feel a gnawing fear eating away at his heart as he thinks of the gaping wound in his Pup’s side and the likelihood that Twilight would even be able to swim with it.

His pup’s chances aren’t high.

“Look!” Warriors shouts over the storm, jerking him from his thoughts as his eyes follow the captain’s pointing hand.

Pink bobs on the surface, backed by bedraggled and soaked black fur as Legend hauls Twilight’s limp form through the water.

“Pup!”

He’s taking the lad from Legend as soon as they’re in reach, and Legend seems to sag in relief as the weight is removed from his shoulder. “Was with Wild. Bring him to-” The vet wheezes and ducks beneath the water for a moment, coming up with a pained expression on his face. “Bring to shore. I’ll get Wild.” He gives them no time to respond, tail flicking as he disappears beneath the waves again.

Time and Warriors exchange a glance and head back to shore, supporting the weight of the rancher between them.

Wind and Sky have managed to get a virtual bonfire going on the shore, and the sailor has laid what blankets and bed-rolls he’s found of their equipment in front of it, allowing their dampened things to ry as he and the other three heroes bundle together for warmth.

It’s with a cheer that they al; greet Time and Warriors as the two emerge from the ocean, and Time can’t help but smile a bit in relief at seeing them all safe again. Only a little longer and Legend will be back with Wild, and then he can rest easy knowing they’re all out of the storm.

Rain still patters against already soaked skin and cloth, but with the fire flickering before them Time can’t bring himself to care over much.

Hyrule’s fingers shiver as they slide over the wound in Twilight’s side, cleansing it from the poisonous water that has soaked into the bandages, and while Twilight grits his teeth and winces, he’s at least conscious enough to do so, and that alone brings some peace to the others.

Warriors informs the others of the whereabouts of their two missing brothers, and Time helps to settle Twilight on one of the warming bedrolls. It made still be wet, but it’s better than getting sand in the pup’s wound.

They wait in tense silence, bundled together to share heat as nervous gazes watch the shore. Wind hasn’t stopped muttering under his breath and Four isn’t doing much better with his half formed sentences and steady murmurs.

It’s only when Wild’s golden hair can be seen on the shore that they all release a breath of air.

Cornflower blue is wide and glazed, likely from shock, but it doesn’t stop the champion from reaching back into the waves to pull out his companion.

Legend is a mess.

The veteran gasps and splutters for breath once he’s free, skin a sickly shade of white and eyes just as glazes as Wild's own as the two clings to each other, and when the two stand together Legend is leaning heavily against the shaking champion, and it’s only through sheer luck that Time and Sky get there in time to catch them before the duo collapses back into the waves.

Wild curls against Time’s chest, fingers shaking and eyes blank as the man carries him back to the fire. Legend doesn’t even stir, lying limp in Sky’s hold as the Skyloftian bustles back to join the other heroes.

Nothing is said about the glistening tail that fades into legs once Legend is warmed and dried, and even if anyone had dared the stern gaze of the first of their number would have been enough to silence them.

Violet blinks hazy and distant beneath the warmed fabric of Sky’s sailcloth, but they are all safe. They are all safe and they are alive.

“Thanks to Legend.” Wild whispers when he comes back, head resting against Times collar bone. “Without him I would have never got Twi back to shore.”

“Three cheers for the vet.” Wars forces a smile, and while the cheers are heartfelt and thankful, they do nothing to lighten the mood.

Legend doesn’t even seem to hear them.

[liriostigre]

hey! I wanted to ask what your favorite poetry books are? I have a few but I want to read new and interesting stuff, and I trust your taste :D

hiii ♡

tbh i only started reading poetry collections like,, last year. i'm subscribed to poetryfoundation's newsletter (poem of the day) so i usually just read random poems

anyway, i'm not sure my recs could be considered new (cause i'm gonna start with Mary Oliver ♡) but feel free to message me if you want to know the themes, style, feeling (vibes, if you will) or anything you want to know about these collections. for now, i'm linking my favorite poems in each collection, i hope this helps you choose! ♡

here you go:

Dream Work —Mary Oliver (“Wild Geese.” “Dogfish.”)

Red Bird —Mary Oliver (“Summer Morning.” “Love Sorrow.”)

Blue Horses —Mary Oliver (“To Be Human Is to Sing Your Own Song.” “Loneliness.” “Little Crazy Love Song.”)

The Wild Iris —Louise Glück (“Sunset.” “Retreating Light.”)

Haruko/Love Poems —June Jordan (“On a New Year’s Eve.” “Mendocino Memory.” “Toward a City That Sings.” *under the cut)

Extracting the Stone of Madness —Alejandra Pizarnik (“Primitive Eyes.” “Summer Goodbyes.” *under the cut)

Ariel —Sylvia Plath (“Tulips.” “The Rival.”)

Prelude to Bruise —Saeed Jones (“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat.” *under the cut)

Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth —Alice Walker (“Coming Back from Seeing Your People.” *under the cut)

I Must Be Living Twice —Eileen Myles (“Edward the Confessor.” *under the cut)

Teaching My Mother How To Give Birth —Warsan Shire (“Conversations About Home (at the Deportation Centre.”)

The Black Unicorn —Audre Lorde (“Hanging Fire.” “Sister Outsider.”)

Bright Dead Things —Ada Limón (“The Riveter.” “Glow.”)

Night Sky With Exit Wounds —Ocean Vuong (“Thanksgiving 2006.” “Logophobia.”)

Postcolonial Love Poem —Natalie Diaz (“Manhattan Is a Lenape Word.”)

Crush —Richard Siken (“Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out.”)

Once —Alice Walker (“So We've Come at Last to Freud.”)

“Toward a City That Sings” by June Jordan

Into the topaz the crystalline signals of Manhattan the nightplane lowers my body scintillate with longing to lie positive beside the electric waters of your flesh and I will never tell you the meaning of this poem: Just say, ‘She wrote it and I recognize the reference.’ Please let it go at that. Although it is all the willingness you lend the world as when you picked it up the garbage scattering the cool formalities of Madison Avenue after midnight (where we walked for miles as though we knew the woods well enough to ignore the darkness) although it is all the willingness you lend the world that makes me want to clean up everything in sight (myself included)

for your possible discovery

“Primitive Eyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

Where fear neither speaks in stories or poems, nor gives shape to terrors or triumphs.

My name, my pronoun — a grey void.

I’m familiar with the full range of fear. I know what it’s like to start singing and to set off slowly through the narrow mountain pass that leads back to the stranger in me, to my own emigrant.

I write to ward off fear and the clawing wind that lodges in my throat.

And in the morning, when you are afraid of finding yourself dead (of there being no more images): the silence of compression, the silence of existence itself. This is how the years fly by. This is how we lost that beautiful animal happiness.

“Summer Goodbyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

The soft rumor of spreading weeds. The sound of things ruined by the wind. They come to me as if I were the heart of all that exists. I would like to be dead, and also to go inside another heart.

“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat” by Saeed Jones

I. Drugged, I dreamed you a plume of ash, great rush of wrecked air through the towns of my stupor. And when the ocean in your blood went toxic, I thought fire was what we needed: serrated light through the skin, grenade in the chest—pulled linchpin. I saw us breathing on the other side of after. But a blackout is not night; orange-bottled dreams are not sleep. II. I was a cross-legged boy in the third lifetime, empire of blocks in my lap while you walked through the door of your silence, hunting knife in one hand, flask in the other. I waited for you until I forgot to breathe, my want turning me colors only tongues of amaryllis could answer for. It owned me, that hunger, tendriled its way into my name for you. III. In a city made of rain each door, a silence; each lock, a mouth, I walked daily through the spit-slick streets, harbingers on my hands in henna: there will be no after Black-and-blue-garbed strangers, they called me Cassandra. (I had such a body then.) Umbrellas in hand, they listened while they unlistened. there will be no no. after

the world will end no.

you are the reason it no. ends

you no. IV. I didn’t exactly mean to survive myself. Half this life I’ve spent falling out of fourth-story windows. Pigeons for hair, wind for feet. Sometimes I sing “Stormy Weather” on the way down. Today, “Strange Fruit.” Each time, strangers find me drawing my own chalk outline on the sidewalk, cursing with a mouth full of iron, furious at my pulse. V. After ruin, after shards of glass like misplaced stars, after dredge, after the black bite of frost:        you are the after, you are the first hour in a life without clocks; the name of whatever falls from the clouds now is you (it is not rain), a song in a dead language, an unlit earth, a coast broken— how was I to know every word was your name?

“Coming Back from Seeing Your People” by Alice Walker

Coming back From seeing your people You were So wonderfully Full Of yourself.

But now You have supped With vampires They have fed Feasted On you.

They arise Bright-eyed Fit.

You alone have lost Not only Your sleep But also Your glow The luster of Affection Heart welcome Your people Sent home With you.

Beloved You must learn To walk alone To hold The precious Silence To bring home And keep the precious Little That is left Of yourself.

“Edward the Confessor” by Eileen Myles

I have a confession to make I wish there were some role in society I could fulfill I could be a confessor I have a confession to make I have this way when I step into the bakery on 2nd Ave. of wanting to be the only really nice person in the store so the harried sales woman with several toned hair will like me. I do this in all kinds of stores, coffee shops xerox shops, everywhere I go. And invariably I leave my keys, xeroxing, my coffee from the last place I am being so nice. I try so hard to make a great impression on these neutral strangers right down to the perfect warm smile I get entirely lost and stagger back out onto the street, bereft of something major. It’s really leaning too hard on the everyday. My mother was the kind of woman who dragging us into stores always seemed to charm the pants off the cashier. She was such a great person, so human though at home she was such a bitch, I mean really distant. I imitate her and I don’t do it well. She didn’t leave her wallet or us in a store. I’m just a pale imitation it is simply not my style to open the hearts of strangers to my true personhood. I hope you accept this tiny confession of what I am currently going through. And if you are experiencing something of a similar nature tell someone, not me, but tell someone. It’s the new human program to be in. It would be nice for at least these final moments if we could sigh with the relief of being in the same program with all the other humans whispering in school. I can’t quite locate the terror, but I am trying to be my mother or Edward the Confessor smiling down on you with up-praying hands. I am looking down at the tips of my boots as I step across the balcony of the church excited to be allowed to say these things. Outside my church is a relationship. On 11th street this guy and this woman are selling the woman so they can get more dope. All their things are there, rags and loaves of bread and make-up. And there was— this was incredible. Two men lying by the door of the church giving each other blow-jobs. They were sort of street guys, one black one white. I said hey you can’t do that here. They jumped up, one spit come out of his mouth. If you don’t get out of here I’ll call the cops. Don’t call the cops we’ll go, we’ll leave. That was a shock. That was more than I expected to see in a day. Something about seeing the guy spit come out of his mouth. He didn’t have to do that. I guess I scared him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was scared too.

[dat-town]

colour the world with you

Characters: Yeonjun & You

Genre: fluff

Setting: witch shop au

Summary: The crazy hair coloured guy working at the witch shop where your grandma has you run errands for her keeps getting on your nerves.

Words: 3.7k

Author’s note: title is from TXT’s Your Light

For @restlessmaknae​ to fill your holidays with colours, smiles and happiness.

You told yourself you weren't a believer. People talked about magic as if they had seen it happen but you were doubtful, even when your weak grandma asked you to get a potion for her. When doctors couldn't help, she always turned to alternative methods even though you thought just taking her pills could have helped her. But no, she insisted, put the money into your hands and told you to ask for Han halmeoni's usual. You gritted your teeth but despite not saying it, you were upset how people out there could take advantage of naive elders with their expensive fake herb drinks. Though, you knew better than anyone that arguing with your grandma wouldn't have led anywhere since she was just as stubborn as you. So you agreed with a smile and promised you would get the potion the next day.

Finding the shop called Magic Island – what an obnoxious name for real – was easier than you thought. Witchcraft wasn't hunted or looked down upon as it used to be but you really didn't expect to find it between a coffee shop and a bookstore. From outside it seemed like any other store with its glass windows though it was more colourful and lively than most due to the flowers by the door and the dreamcatcher on the door. You double checked the name and the address then tentatively pressed down on the handle.

As soon as you crossed the threshold, the smell of herbs and spices, burning candle scents and warmth hit you in waves. The whole place gave off a very soothing and welcoming vibe and while the interior was even more colourful than the outside, nothing stood out as much as the vivid blue hair of the guy behind the counter.

"Hello, how can I help you?" he inquired, voice mellow and smile kind. The thin, light blue sweater he wore showed a bit of one of his collarbones and the dangling earring he had in one ear had small blue stones in it. You felt like you had never seen anybody like him.

"I came to pick up something for my grandma, Han halmeoni's usual potion," you recited the rehearsed speech before you could have blurted out something rude. At the mention of your granny, the cashier boy's eyes lit up and he smiled wider.

"Ah, just a minute," he excused himself and leaned down, opening small cabinets full of folies and cans under the counter until he found the glass of the thick green liquid. "Is halmeoni alright though? Has her knee been acting up again?" he asked while he rang up the product and you shouldn't have been surprised that your grandma probably told him about all her life.

"It's her waist this time," you said curtly, wanting to get over the payment as soon as possible. But even after the machine beeped accepting your credit card, the boy with his crazy hair switched on his employee of the mouth smile and kept you there with his rambling:

"It seems like you're quite stressed and anxious recently. Wouldn't you like some chamomile-lavender tea? Or we have a peppermint-citrus cream for headaches, too or–"

"I'm fine," you cut him off not too nicely. Argh... you hated when cashiers were so noisy and he even acted like he knew you just because you weren't in a good mood today but that had nothing to do with your usual exam stress. He couldn't have known about that anyway. And as if some cream would have helped!

The next time you saw the boy he had yellow locks. The unnatural, bright yellow like the fermented radish you liked so much with your traditional Korean dishes. Of course, you didn't go to his shop out of boredom or happiness but for your grandmother's sake you didn't want her to travel across half the city just to get her favourite tea leaves for better digestion. It had been about two months since you had visited the colourful shop, so the changes shouldn't have taken you so aback – after all every shop was usually decorated according to the season – and yet, for a moment you just stood there in the bright warmth of the sunlit room full of buttercups and sunflowers. It almost seemed like the same cashier guy as last time had a hair colour to fit the enterieur but that sounded a bit too ridiculous. Who would have dyed their hair because of their workplace's new decoration? Though who worked at a witch shop in the first place?

"Hi! How can I help you today?" the boy, Yeonjun according to his name tag, flashed a beaming smile at you. He seemed really giddy all the time, maybe being surrounded by all these herbs all day long did something to his brain… or maybe got him high.

"I would like to have a packet of Island of Calm tea," you told him straight, wanting to make it a real quick in and out.

"Ah, for your grandma? I'm glad it helps her," the boy smiled at you sweetly and started humming an annoyingly cheerful song while preparing the packet neatly. He wrapped it up, put on a sticker with good wishes before he would have turned to the cashier machine.

You had already prepared with your wallet but instead of letting you know the price, this Yeonjun guy decided to play with your nerves.

"Sorry about the other day if I came off too strong. We have amulets too if you prefer…"

You slammed down the money on the counter, grabbed the tea and turned to walk out on him before he could have finished that. But...

"It will rain today. Take an umbrella," he shouted after you which only made you snicker.

Hah, who was this guy? He should have minded his own business! The weather forecast didn't say anything about rain anyways.

"I'm fine," you bit at him and walked out.

It didn't even take 10 minutes though for you to get soaking wet in a sudden summer downpour. Under your breath you kept cursing the guy from the magic shop although he had nothing to do with the rain. He just had a good guess.

You really didn't want to go back to the shop. It gave you the chills, like that uneasiness in the stomach that made you want to throw up. You didn't want to go back because you didn't want to hear that crazy hair coloured guy's unwanted preaching about your stress level. You might have been a bit on the edge these days but you were okay, you could handle it. Even if you wished your group partners to Hell sometimes because they couldn't even answer your questions about the schedule and the presentation in your KKT group chat, even if your teacher was a pain in the ass moving the classes as he pleased as if you had nothing better to do. Even if an upcoming family gathering was unnerving you because you didn't want to hear them comparing you to your relatives. It was just a bad time, it would pass, you told yourself, nothing to whine about.

So you took a deep breath, list in hand and you raised your chin before you stepped inside the so-called magic shop. You planned ahead: going to the counter, handing over the list, pretending to get a phone call and leave. Easy and interaction-free. But the moment you stepped inside, the sight this time took your breath away.  You really didn't understand how and why the store changed its interior so drastically and so frequently but this look was even more breathtaking than the ones before.

The whole place had a pink hue, it even smelled like cotton candy and everything had this rosy colour from afar. The ceiling looked like a pink sky with white cloud decorations made of cotton. The dreamcatchers and amulets hanging down all sparkled in the shade of blue hour and you forgot why you came for a moment.

"Pretty, isn't it?" A voice spoke up from beside you and only then you realised that the cashier boy wasn't behind the counter like usual but instead he was walking between the shelves in the book section, holding a few volumes in his arms. You jumped at his sudden closeness, blinking up at him surprised and it took you a moment too long to process what you had been seeing.

The guy had bright pink hair.

And it looked strangely good on him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned and only then you realised that you had been staring. At the way his locks looked against his tanned forehead. At the way he pulled his mouth into a gentle smile and suddenly you felt like the air was getting sucked out of your lungs. What the hell were you doing? Why did he suddenly have such an effect on you?

"Yeah, I'm fine," you muttered, clearing your throat, stepping away.

You walked up to the counter confidently and the boy didn't try to stop you. He didn't say anything, not even as he followed you and took your paper with the list your grandma suddenly needed after you complained to her about the nosy guy in the shop. He prepared the small box with different herbs, creams and lucky charms wordlessly which was a bit unsettling. You only met him twice before yet it seemed like it was out of character for him. But you tried not to think too much into it and just watched him work.

When Yeonjun read your total out loud for you and you handed your card to him there was something knowing in his eyes that you couldn't quite put a finger on.

"You know you should really stop saying you're fine when you aren't," he spoke up finally when he gave you back the plastic but instead of letting it go, he looked down on your hand intently. Not understanding the reason behind it you followed his gaze and saw that you managed to cut your finger earlier with the paper when you got startled. You didn't even feel it up until then even though it drew a bit of blood, a few drops drying on your index finger.

"Let me," the boy muttered as he let go and looked around on a shelf not far from the counter.

"It's nothing really," you protested but you felt bad because he shouldn't have been worried about you just because it was him who got you scared. You should have paid more attention.

"It could get infected," he reasoned as he got back with some lotion in a small capsule. He took your hand, gentle and you realised that his hands were soft despite the calluses on his fingertips. Not to mention, it was endearing how attentive he was, even sticking out his tongue a bit in concentration as he put a plaster over the oil-coated wound.

"Thanks," you breathed not really knowing what else you could say and you couldn't even anymore, not with the way he smiled at you, warm like the Sun and soothing like spring breezes.

As you were leaving you couldn't help but think that the way he said those words about you pretending to be okay was about more than just your scar. Maybe he had a great sense for such things.

It was not until you got home that you noticed the extra object in the packet you bought at the shop. You even double-checked with your grandma's list but a scent bag of herbs for better sleeping weren't on that and you didn't even pay for that, so how?

The answer was ridiculously easy: the cashier guy must have sneaked it into your bag, yet you didn't get his reason and why he always tried to have a say in your life but then you looked down on the cute pink plaster on your finger and decided to accept the gift. Even though you didn't believe in it, you put it under your pillow for the night like you were instructed. You almost forgot about it because by the time it was bedtime for you your head was full of unnecessary drama and thoughts that were driving you crazy. On nights like this it was hard to fall asleep because you had too many what ifs going on inside of your head. But this time, even before you could have realised it, you were already drifting off to sleep, tense shoulders relaxing, head empty. You didn't remember when you last slept so well.

So maybe it was confusion, gratitude or the mix of those two that led you back to the Magic Island only a few days later, this time without your grandma having to make you. This time you were expecting the change of interior, so the universe-like violet colours and planets flying around (must be some kind of trick) didn't take you that aback. Yeonjun was nowhere to be seen even though the bells rang prettily above the door when you arrived.

For once, you decided to take a look around, so tentatively you wandered deeper into the store, into parts you hadn't been before. You had seen tarot cards in one corner and Ouija boards in another, there were books about ghosts and other dimensions. There was a whole section about curses and a closed off one for potions. You were reading some of the ridiculously long tea names (and why does The night when the world has burned, we are… has chilli in it anyways?) when you heard someone clear their throat. You turned around to face them but your hello died on the tip of your tongue.

Now Yeonjun's hair was purple, that dark but warm kind, like nights on which the sky seemed to embrace you.

"Does halmeoni need something else?" he looked up at you with a genuine, kind smile.

"No, I... Actually I just wanted to thank you for the scent bag," you muttered under your nose, a bit embarrassed but determined to be a bigger person and not act petty over an act of kindness.

"Did it help?" Yeonjun's eyes lit up immediately, straight up happily when you nodded. The smile on his face widened. "Then you're welcome."

You just stood there, uncertain, not knowing what to say or do because apparently he was well aware that he gifted you that and it seemed like he didn't expect anything in return. Not to mention that he figured out that you barely had any sleep lately and cinnamon was one of your favourite scents. Was it just a coincidence? Or did the bags under your eyes betray you like that? Was cinnamon just a lucky guess?

"How did you know?" you blurted out eventually, not getting over your internal struggle. For a moment Yeonjun just looked at you, really looked as if he tried to figure you out and he was rather tentative when he spoke up:

"You don't believe in magic, do you?"

You raised an eyebrow as if asking: seriously? at which he let out a chuckle. His laughter made such a pleasant sound!

"Well, then you could say it was just a good hunch," he shrugged and his carefree attitude made you even more curious, throwing you more recklessly into the unknown.

"And if I said I believe in it?" you wondered out loud and the cashier guy looked back at you as if it was a challenge. Maybe it was since you were interested in how he would try to convince you about magic being real.

"It's your aura," he said simply, looking at you and at the same time around you and started explaining:  "It has a different energy based on your mood and well-being. It wasn't that hard to figure out based on that."

You hummed, trying to see whether your rational mind could take it as an answer but even auras and halos and such seemed too... intangible for you. Yeonjun must have sensed your hesitance because a moment later he straightened his back and tilted his head.

"It's easier to show you," he offered, waiting, patient. He must have learned that being pushy with you didn't work because the more he insisted, the more you resisted. But putting it this way: him offering a chance for you to see and believe but with no pressure, it made you halt. Because all your life you had liked certain things. You liked plans, schedules, believing in things you saw or experienced. Maybe that's why magic had always been obnoxious for you: you had met with too many liars and fakes.

You slowly, tentatively nodded.

"Close your eyes," Yeonjun smiled at you encouragingly and albeit not liking the idea of becoming vulnerable even this much, you obeyed.  About five seconds passed before the boy called your name. "You can open them."

Not expecting any big change, you were at a loss of words when Yeonjun stood in front of you with silver grey hair. And not just that! The shop's interior changed in a blink of a minute, too. It was no longer purple but rather monochrome, serious, angular.

"How?" you gasped in awe.

"Magic," Yeonjun smiled and laughed at you before explaining that his mother was a witch, so he's partly one too and that the shop is enchanted, changing based on his mood or will, similarly as his hair colour. It was still unbelievable but you couldn't deny the obvious, so instead of protesting against it anymore, you threw your dozen questions at the boy to which he answered very enthusiastically.

After that afternoon, you slowly started to become a regular at Magic Island. Not only when your grandma had an errand to run but you visited the shop even when you got tired of your scent bag's type or due to another excuse. It was easy to come up with those when you had so many questions. With Yeonjun by your side guiding you through a whole new world opened up in front of you. After your uni classes, you sometimes dropped by to read a book between the shelves about auras and the harmony with nature or potions that actually worked until Yeonjun found you there. Sometimes he called you out on never buying the books but it was only a friendly, teasing banter that ended up with him inviting you over for some herb tea matching your mood (a lot of sweet strawberry and rose mint lately). On other occasions, he joined you on the floor, leaning his back onto the bookshelf too, his arm almost brushing yours as he asked about what you were currently reading about.

He also told you a lot of fun stories and while chuckling over his jokes your stomach didn't ache only due to laughter. You hated to call this feeling as 'butterflies in your stomach' but you had no better word for it and being so good at reading your aura, Yeonjun must have known, too. Yet, he didn't say anything, so you decided to take matters into your hands.

When you opened the door of the magic store on that chilly December afternoon after finally finishing with your exams before winter break, the first thing that hit you was the cinnamon and plum scent. You inhaled deeply and smiled at the Christmassy atmosphere inside the store with the festive decoration. Yeonjun must have had the holiday spirit these days, you thought and it seemed like right because the boy walked out of the storage room in a cute snowman sweater and with faded lavender coloured hair.

"Heya, how was the exam?" he turned to you with a bright smile which you couldn't help but mimic as you walked up to the other side of the counter.

"Manageable," you shrugged, happy that you were finally done with it. Then before you could have chickened out during your conversation, you blurted out: "Do you perhaps have the opposite of love potions?"

"Like an antiserum? Did someone give you a love potion?" Yeonjun wiggled his eyebrows but his tone was kind of worried. Cute, you noted.

"No but I'd like this stupid crush gone," you sighed and even grimaced for impact, watching the boy's reaction closely but he seemed more curious and a bit confused than anything.

"Why?"

"I just..." You vaguely threw your hands up and pouted which Yeonjun must have found endearing because the mischievousness was back in his glittering dark eyes and the smirk was on his lips again as he leaned provocatively closer.

"And if I like you back?" he raised an eyebrow and the confidence in his voice made your jaw drop.

The audacity!

"I'm not talking about you!" you retorted right away but more out of pride and teasing than honesty. You couldn't hide that too well from the witch boy either as his grin only widened seeing your blushed cheeks.

"Too bad," he snickered playfully, his lower lip jutting out in a sulky pout. Then he pulled back in an instant, brushing his lavender hair out of his eyes with an overdramatic sigh. "And I was about to suggest a hot chocolate date..."

"A date you say?" you breathed with a hopeful smile and rested your palms on the counter while this time it was you who leaned closer. Not that it meant a lot because with Yeonjun's height, you just had to angle your neck even more sharply. At least until he decided to scrunch down to your level, dark orbs glimmering in the colourful lights of the shop.

"That I say," he nodded and briefly looked up prompting you to do the same only to see a white mistletoe slowly growing and hanging down above you.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, mister," you flicked his forehead but giggled anyway knowing all too well that your aura must have been just as pink as your cheeks. But you didn't mind one bit, not until it was Yeonjun who made your world so colourful.

[grigori77]

2020 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 3)

10.  WOLFWALKERS – eleven years ago, Irish director Tomm Moore exploded onto the animated cinema scene with The Secret of Kells, a spellbinding feature debut which captivated audiences the world over and even garnered an Oscar nomination.  Admittedly I didn’t actually even know about it until I discovered his work through his astonishing follow-up, Song of the Sea (another Academy Award nominee), in 2015, so when I finally caught it I was already a fan of Moore’s work.  It’s been a similarly long wait for his third feature, but he’s genuinely pulled off a hat-trick, delivering a third flawless film in a row which OF COURSE means that his latest feature is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my top animated feature of 2020.  I could even be tempted to say it’s his best work to date … this is an ASTONISHING film, a work of such breath-taking, spell-binding beauty that I spent its entire hour and three-quarters glued to the screen, simple mesmerised by the wonder and majesty of this latest iteration of the characteristically stylised “Cartoon Saloon” look.  It’s also liberally steeped in Moore’s trademark Celtic vibe and atmosphere, once again delving deep into his homeland’s rich and evocative cultural history and mythology while also bringing us something far more original and personal – this time the titular supernatural beings are magical near-human beings whose own subconscious can assume the form of very real wolves.  Set in a particularly dark time in Irish history – namely 1650, when Oliver Cromwell was Lord Protector – the story follows Robyn (Honor Kneafsey, probably best known for the Christmas Prince films), the impetuous and spirited young daughter of English hunter Bill Goodfellowe (Sean Bean), brought in by the Protectorate to rid the city of Kilkenny of the wolves plaguing the area.  One day fate intervenes and Robyn meets Mebh Og MacTire (The Girl at the End of the Garden‘s Eve Whittaker), a wild girl living in the woods, whose accidental bite gives her strange dreams in which she becomes a wolf – turns out Mebh is a wolfwalker, and now so is Robyn … every aspect of this film is an utter triumph for Moore and co, who have crafted a work of living, breathing cinematic art that’s easily the equal to (if not even better than) the best that Disney, Dreamworks or any of the other animation studios could create.  Then there’s the excellent voice cast – Bean brings fatherly warmth and compassion to the role that belies his character’s intimidating size, while Kneafsey and Whittaker make for a sweet and sassy pair as they bond in spite of powerful cultural differences, and the masterful Simon McBurney (Harry Potter, Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy) brings cool, understated menace to the role of Cromwell himself.  This is a film with plenty of emotional heft to go with its marvels, and once again displays the welcome dark side which added particular spice to Moore’s previous films, but ultimately this is still a gentle and heartfelt work of wonder that makes for equally suitable viewing for children as for those who are still kids at heart – ultimately, then, this is another triumph for one of the most singularly original filmmakers working in animation today, and if Wolfwalkers doesn’t make it third time lucky come Oscars-time then there’s no justice in the world …

9.  WONDER WOMAN 1984 – probably the biggest change for 2020 compared to pretty much all of the past decade is how different the fortunes of superhero cinema turned out to be.  A year earlier the Marvel Cinematic Universe had dominated all, but the DC Extended Universe still got a good hit in with big surprise hit Shazam!  Fast-forward to now and things are VERY different – DC suddenly came out in the lead, but only because Marvel’s intended heavy-hitters (two MCU movies, the first Venom sequel and potential hot-shit new franchise starter Morbius: the Living Vampire) found themselves continuously pushed back thanks to (back then) unforeseen circumstances which continue to shit all over our theatre-going slate for the immediate future.  In the end DC’s only SERIOUS competition turned out to be NETFLIX … never mind, at least we got ONE big established superhero blockbuster into the cinemas before the end of the year that the whole family could enjoy, and who better to headline it than DC’s “newest” big screen megastar, Diana Prince? Back in 2017 Monster’s Ball director Patty Jenkins’ monumental DCEU standalone spectacularly realigned the trajectory of a cinematic franchise that was visibly flagging, redesigning the template for the series’ future which has since led to some (mostly) consistently impressive subsequent offerings.  Needless to say it was a damn tough act to follow, but Jenkins and co-writers Geoff Johns (Arrow and The Flash) and David Callaham (The Expendables, Zombieland: Double Tap, future MCU entry Shang-Chi & the Legend of the Ten Rings) have risen to the challenge in fine style, delivering something which pretty much equals that spectacular franchise debut … as has Gal Gadot, who’s now OFFICIALLY made the role her own thanks to yet another showstopping and definitive performance as the unstoppable Amazonian goddess living amongst us.  She’s older and wiser than in the first film, but still hasn’t lost that forthright honesty and wonderfully pure heart we’ve come to love ever since her introduction in Zack Snyder’s troublesome but ultimately underrated Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice (yes, that’s right, I said it!), and Gadot’s clear, overwhelming commitment to the role continues to pay off magnificently as she once again proves that Diana is THE VERY BEST superhero in the DCEU cinematic pantheon.  Although it takes place several decades after its predecessor, WW84 is, obviously, still very much a period piece, Jenkins and co this time perfectly capturing the sheer opulent and over-the-top tastelessness of the 1980s in all its big-haired, bad-suited, oversized shoulder-padded glory while telling a story that encapsulates the greedy excessiveness of the Reagan era, perfectly embodied in the film’s nominal villain, Max Lord (The Mandalorian himself, Pedro Pascal), a wishy-washy wannabe oil tycoon conman who chances upon a supercharged wish-rock and unleashes a devastating supernatural “monkey’s paw” upon the world. To say any more would give away a whole raft of spectacular twists and turns that deserve to be enjoyed good and cold, although they did spoil one major surprise in the trailer when they teased the return of Diana’s first love, Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) … needless to say this is another big blockbuster bursting with big characters, big action and BIG IDEAS, just what we’ve come to expect after Wonder Woman’s first triumphant big screen adventure.  Interestingly, the film starts out feeling like it’s going to be a bubbly, light, frothy affair – after a particularly stunning all-action opening flashback to Diana’s childhood on Themyscira, the film proper kicks off with a bright and breezy atmosphere that feels a bit like the kind of Saturday morning cartoon action the consistently impressive set-pieces take such unfettered joy in parodying, but as the stakes are raised the tone grows darker and more emotionally potent, the storm clouds gathering for a spectacularly epic climax that, for once, doesn’t feel too overblown or weighed down by its visual effects, while the intelligent script has unfathomable hidden depths to it, making us think far more than these kinds of blockbusters usually do.  It’s really great to see Chris Pine return since he was one of the best things about the first movie, and his lovably childlike wide-eyed wonder at this brave new world perfectly echoes Diana’s own last time round; Kristen Wiig, meanwhile, is pretty phenomenal throughout as Dr Barbara Minerva, the initially geeky and timid nerd who discovers an impressive inner strength but ultimately turns into a superpowered apex predator as she becomes one of Wonder Woman’s most infamous foes, the Cheetah; Pascal, of course, is clearly having the time of his life hamming it up to the hilt as Lord, playing gloriously against his effortlessly cool, charismatic action hero image to deliver a compellingly troubling examination of the monstrous corrupting influence of absolute power.  Once again, though, the film truly belongs to Gadot – she looks amazing, acts her socks off magnificently, and totally rules the movie.  After this, a second sequel is a no-brainer, because Wonder Woman remains the one DC superhero who’s truly capable of bearing the weight of this particular cinematic franchise on her powerful shoulders – needless to say, it’s already been greenlit, and with both Jenkins and Gadot onboard, I’m happy to sign up for more too …

8.  LOVE & MONSTERS – with the cinemas continuing their frustrating habit of opening for a little while and then closing while the pandemic ebbed and flowed in the months after the summer season, it was starting to look like there might not have been ANY big budget blockbusters to enjoy before year’s end as heavyweights like Black Widow, No Time To Die and Dune pulled back to potentially more certain release slots into 2021 (with only WW84 remaining stubbornly in place for Christmas).  Then Paramount decided to throw us a bone, opting to release this post-apocalyptic horror comedy on-demand in October instead, thus giving me the perfect little present to tie me over during the darkening days of autumn. The end result was a stone-cold gem that came out of nowhere to completely blow critics away, a spectacular sleeper hit that ultimately proved one of the year’s biggest and most brilliant surprises.  Director Michael Matthews may only have had South African indie thriller Five Fingers for Marseilles under his belt prior to this, but he proves he’s definitely a solid talent to watch in the future, crafting a fun and effective thrill-ride that, like all the best horror comedies, is consistently as funny as it is scary, sharing much of the same DNA as this particular mash-up genre’s classics like Tremors and Zombieland and standing up impressively well to such comparisons.  The story, penned by rising star Brian Duffield (who has TWO other entries on this list, Underwater and Spontaneous) and Matthew Robinson (The Invention of Lying, Dora & the Lost City of Gold), is also pretty ingenious and surprisingly original – a meteorite strike has unleashed weird mutagenic pathogens that warp various creepy crawly critters into gigantic monstrosities that have slaughter most of the world’s human population, leaving only a beleaguered, dwindling few to eke out a precarious living in underground colonies. Living in one such makeshift community is Joel Dawson (The Maze Runner’s Dylan O’Brien), a smart and likeable geek who really isn’t very adventurous, is extremely awkward and uncoordinated, and has a problem with freezing if threatened … which makes it all the more inexplicable when he decides, entirely against the advice of everyone he knows, to venture onto the surface so he can make the incredibly dangerous week-long trek to the neighbouring colony where his girlfriend Aimee (Iron Fist’s Jessica Henwick) has ended up.  Joel is, without a doubt, the best role that O’Brien has EVER had, a total dork who’s completely unsuited to this kind of adventure and, in the real world, sure to be eaten alive in the first five minutes, but he’s also such a fantastically believable, fallible everyman that every one of us desperate, pathetic omega-males and females can instantly put ourselves in his place, making it elementarily easy to root for him.  He’s also hilariously funny, his winningly self-deprecating sass and pitch perfect talent for physical comedy making it all the more rewarding watching each gloriously anarchic life-and-death encounter mould him into the year’s most unlikely action hero.  Henwick, meanwhile, once again impresses in a well-written role where she’s able to make a big impression despite her decidedly short screen time, as do the legendary Michael Rooker and brilliant newcomer Ariana Greenblatt as Clyde and Minnow, the adorably jaded, seen-it-all-before pair of “professional survivors” Joel meets en-route, who teach him to survive on the surface.  The action is fast, frenetic and potently visceral, the impressively realistic digital creature effects bringing a motley crew of bloodthirsty beasties to suitably blood-curdling life for the film’s consistently terrifying set-pieces, while the world-building is intricately thought-out and skilfully executed.  Altogether, this was an absolute joy from start to finish, and a film I enthusiastically endorsed to everyone I knew was looking for something fun to enjoy during the frustrating lockdown nights-in.  One of the cinematic year’s best kept secrets then, and a compelling sign of things to come for its up-and-coming director.

7.  PARASITE – I’ve been a fan of master Korean filmmaker Bong Joon-ho ever since I stumbled across his deeply weird but also thoroughly brilliant breakthrough feature The Host, and it’s a love that’s deepened since thanks to truly magnificent sci-fi actioner Snowpiercer, so I was looking forward to his latest feature as much as any movie geek, but even I wasn’t prepared for just what a runaway juggernaut of a hit this one turned out to be, from the insane box office to all that award-season glory (especially that undeniable clean-sweep at the Oscars). I’ll just come out and say it, this film deserves it all.  It’s EASILY Bong’s best film to date (which is really saying something), a masterful social satire and jet black comedy that raises some genuinely intriguing questions before delivering deeply troubling answers.  Straddling the ever-widening gulf between a disaffected idle rich upper class and impoverished, struggling lower class in modern-day Seoul, it tells the story of the Kim family – father Ki-taek (Bong’s good luck charm, Song Kang-ho), mother Chung-sook (Jang Hye-jin), son Ki-woo (Train to Busan’s Choi Woo-shik) and daughter Ki-jung (The Silenced’s Park So-dam) – a poor family living in a run-down basement apartment who live hand-to-mouth in minimum wage jobs and can barely rub two pennies together, until they’re presented with an intriguing opportunity.  Through happy chance, Ki-woon is hired as an English tutor for Park Da-hye (Jung Ji-so), the daughter of a wealthy family, which offers him the chance to recommend Ki-jung as an art tutor to the Parks’ troubled young son, Da-song (Jung Hyeon-jun). Soon the rest of the Kims are getting in on the act, the kids contriving opportunities for their father to replace Mr Park’s chauffeur and their mother to oust the family’s long-serving housekeeper, Gook Moon-gwang (Lee Jung-eun), and before long their situation has improved dramatically.  But as they two families become more deeply entwined, cracks begin to show in their supposed blissful harmony as the natural prejudices of their respective classes start to take hold, and as events spiral out of control a terrible confrontation looms on the horizon.  This is social commentary at its most scathing, Bong drawing on personal experiences from his youth to inform the razor-sharp script (co-written by his production assistant Han Jin-won), while he weaves a palpable atmosphere of knife-edged tension throughout to add spice to the perfectly observed dark humour of the situation, all the while throwing intriguing twists and turns at us before suddenly dropping such a massive jaw-dropper of a gear-change that the film completely turns on its head to stunning effect.  The cast are all thoroughly astounding, Song once again dominating the film with a turn at once sloppy and dishevelled but also poignant and heartfelt, while there are particularly noteworthy turns from Lee Sun-kyun as the Parks’ self-absorbed patriarch Dong-ik and Choi Yeo-jeong (The Concubine) as his flighty, easily-led wife Choi Yeon-gyo, as well as a fantastically weird appearance in the latter half from Park Myung-hoon.  This is heady stuff, dangerously seductive even as it becomes increasingly uncomfortable viewing, so that even as the screws tighten and everything goes to hell it’s simply impossible to look away.  Bong Joon-ho really has surpassed himself this time, delivering an existential mind-scrambler that lingers long after the credits have rolled and might even have you questioning your place in society once you’ve thought about it some. It deserves every single award and every ounce of praise it’s been lavished with, and looks set to go down as one of the true cinematic greats of this new decade.  Trust me, if this was a purely critical best-of list it’d be RIGHT AT THE TOP …

6.  THE OLD GUARD – Netflix’ undisputable TOP OFFERING of the summer came damn close to bagging the whole season, and I can’t help thinking that even if some of the stiffer competition had still been present it may well have still finished this high. Gina Prince-Blythewood (Love & Basketball, the Secret Life of Bees) directs comics legend Greg Rucka’s adaptation of his own popular series with uncanny skill and laser-focused visual flair considering there’s nothing on her previous CV to suggest she’d be THIS good at mounting a stomping great ultraviolent action thriller, ushering in a thoroughly engrossing tale of four ancient, invulnerable immortal warriors – Andy AKA Andromache of Scythia (Charlize Theron), Booker AKA Sebastian de Livre (Matthias Schoenaerts), Joe AKA Yusuf Al-Kaysani (Wolf’s Marwan Kenzari) and Nicky AKA Niccolo di Ginova (Trust’s Luca Marinelli) – who’ve been around forever, hiring out their services as mercenaries for righteous causes while jealously guarding their identities for fear of horrific experimentation and exploitation should their true natures ever be discovered.  Their anonymity is threatened, however, when they’re uncovered by former CIA operative James Copley (Chiwetel Ejiofor), who’s working for the decidedly dodgy pharmaceutical conglomerate run by sociopathic billionaire Steven Merrick (Harry Melling, formerly Dudley in the Harry Potter movies), who want to capture these immortals so they can patent whatever it is that makes them keep on ticking … just as a fifth immortal, US Marine Nile Freeman (If Beale Street Could Talk’s KiKi Layne), awakens after being “killed” on deployment in Afghanistan.  The supporting players are excellent, particularly Ejiofor, smart and driven but ultimately principled and deeply conflicted about what he’s doing, even if he does have the best of intentions, and Melling, the kind of loathsome, reptilian scumbag you just love to hate, but the film REALLY DOES belong to the Old Guard themselves – Schoenaerts is a master brooder, spot-on casting as the group’s relative newcomer, only immortal since the Napoleonic Wars but clearly one seriously old soul who’s already VERY tired of the lifestyle, while Joe and Nicky (who met on opposing sides of the Crusades) are simply ADORABLE, an unapologetically matter-of-fact gay couple who are sweet, sassy and incredibly kind, the absolute emotional heart of the film; it’s the ladies, however, that are most memorable here.  Layne is exceptional, investing Nile with a steely intensity that puts her in good stead as her new existence threatens to overwhelm her and MORE THAN qualified to bust heads alongside her elders … but it’s ancient Greek warrior Andy who steals the film, Theron building on the astounding work she did in Atomic Blonde to prove, once and for all, that there’s no woman on Earth who looks better kicking arse than her (as Booker puts it, “that woman has forgotten more ways to kill than entire armies will ever learn”); in her hands, Andy truly is a goddess of death, tough as tungsten alloy and unflappable even in the face of hell itself, but underneath it all she hides a heart as big as any of her friends’.  They’re an impossibly lovable bunch and you feel you could follow them on another TEN adventures like this one, which is just as well, because Prince-Blythewood and Rucka certainly put them through their paces here – the drama is high (but frequently laced with a gentle, knowing sense of humour, particularly whenever Joe and Nicky are onscreen), as are the stakes, and the frequent action sequences are top-notch, executed with rare skill and bone-crunching zest, but also ALWAYS in service to the story.  Altogether this is an astounding film, a genuine victory for its makers and, it seems, for Netflix themselves – it’s become one of the platform’s biggest hits to date, earning well-deserved critical acclaim and great respect and genuine geek love from the fanbase at large.  After this, a sequel is not only inevitable, it’s ESSENTIAL …

5.  MANK – it’s always nice when David Fincher, one of my TOP FIVE ALL TIME FAVOURITE DIRECTORS, drops a new movie, because it can be GUARANTEED to place good and high in my rundown for that year.  The man is a frickin’ GENIUS, a true master of the craft, genuinely one of the auteur’s auteurs.  I’ve NEVER seen him deliver a bad film – even a misfiring Fincher (see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button or Alien 3) is still capable of creating GREAT CINEMA.  How? Why?  It’s because he genuinely LOVES the art form, it’s been his obsession all his life, and he’s spent every day of it becoming the best possible filmmaker he can be.  Who better to tell the story of the creation of one of the ULTIMATE cinematic masterpieces, then?  Benjamin Ross’ acclaimed biopic RKO 281 covered similar ground, presenting a compelling look into the making Citizen Kane, the timeless masterpiece of Hollywood’s ULTIMATE auteur, Orson Welles, but Fincher’s film is more interested in the original inspiration for the story, how it was written and, most importantly, the man who wrote it – Herman J. Mankiewicz, known to his friends as Mank. One of my favourite actors of all time, Gary Oldman, delivers yet another of his career best performances in the lead role, once a man of vision and incredible storytelling skill whose talents have largely been squandered through professional difficulties and personal vices, a burned out one-time great fallen on hard times whom Welles picks up out of the trash, dusts off and offers a chance to create something truly great again.  The only catch?  The subject of their film (albeit dressed up in the guise of fictional newspaper magnate Charles Foster Kane) is to be real-life publisher, politico and tycoon William Randolph Hurst (Charles Dance), once Mank’s friend and patron before they had a very public and messy falling out which partly led to his current circumstances.  As he toils away in seclusion on what is destined to become his true masterwork, flashbacks reveal to us the fascinating, moving and ultimately tragic tale of his rise and fall from grace in the movie business, set against the backdrop of one of the most tumultuous periods in American history.  Shooting a script that his own journalist and screenwriter father, Jack, crafted and then failed to bring to the screen himself before his death in 2003, Fincher has been working for almost a quarter century to make this film, and all that passion and drive is writ large on the screen – this is a glorious film ABOUT film, the art of it, the creation of it, and all the dirty little secrets of what the industry itself has always really been like, especially in that most glamorous and illusory of times.  The fact that Fincher shot in black and white and intentionally made it look like it was made in the early 1940s (the “golden age of the Silver Screen”, if you will) may seem like a gimmick, but instead it’s a very shrewd choice that expertly captures the gloss and moodiness of the age, almost looking like a contemporary companion piece to Kane itself, and it’s the perfect way to frame all the sharp-witted observation, subtly subversive character development and murky behind-the-scenes machinations that tell the story.  Oldman is in every way the star here, holding the screen with all the consummate skill and flair we’ve come to expect from him, but there’s no denying the uniformly excellent supporting cast are equal to the task here – Dance is at his regal, charismatic best as Hearst, while Amanda Seyfried is icily classy on the surface but mischievous and lovably grounded underneath as Hearst’s mistress, Marion Davies, who formed the basis for Kane’s most controversial character, Arliss Howard (Full Metal Jacket, The Lost World: Jurassic Park, Moneyball) brings nuance and complexity to the role of MGM founder Louis B. Mayer, Tom Pelphrey (Banshee, Ozark) is understated but compelling as Mank’s younger screenwriter brother Joseph, and Lily Collins and Tuppence Middleton exude class and long-suffering stubbornness as the two main women in Mank’s life (his secretary and platonic muse, Rita Alexander, and his wife, Sara), while The Musketeers’ Tom Burke’s periodic but potent appearances as Orson Welles help to drive the story in the “present”.  Another Netflix release which I was (thankfully) able to catch on the big screen during one of the brief lulls between British lockdowns, this was a decidedly meta cinematic experience that perfectly encapsulated not only what is truly required for the creation of a screen epic, but also the latest pinnacle in the career of one of the greatest filmmakers working in the business today, powerful, stirring, intriguing and surprising in equal measure. Certainly it’s one of the most important films ABOUT so far film this century, but is it as good as Citizen Kane?  Boy, that’s a tough one …

4.  ENOLA HOLMES – ultimately, my top film for the autumn/winter movie season was also the film which finally topped my Netflix Original features list, as well as beating all other streaming offerings for the entire year (which is saying something, as you should know by now).  Had things been different, this would have been one of Warner Bros’ BIGGEST releases for the year in the cinema, of that I have no doubt, a surprise sleeper hit which would have taken the world by storm – as it is it’s STILL become a sensation, albeit in a much more mid-pandemic, lockdown home-viewing kind of way.  Before you start crying oh God no, not another Sherlock Holmes adaptation, this is a very different beast from either the Guy Ritchie take or the modernized BBC show, instead side-lining the great literary sleuth in favour of a delicious new AU version, based on The Case of the Missing Marquess, the first novel in the Enola Holmes Mysteries literary series from American YA author Nancy Springer.  Positing that Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill) and his elder brother Mycroft (Sam Claflin) had an equally ingenious and precocious baby sister, the film introduces us to Enola (Stranger Things’ Millie Bobby Brown), who’s been raised at home by their strong-willed mother Eudoria (Helena Bonham Carter) to be just as intelligent, well-read and intellectually skilled as her far more advantageously masculine elder siblings.  Then, on the morning of her sixteenth birthday, Enola awakens to find her mother has vanished, putting her in a pretty pickle since this leaves her a ward of Mycroft, a self-absorbed social peacock who finds her to be wilfully free-spirited and completely ill equipped to face the world, concluding that the only solution is sending her to boarding school where she’ll learn to become a proper lady.  Needless to say she’s horrified by the prospect, deciding to run away and search for her mother instead … this is about as perfect a family adventure film as you could wish for, following a vital, capable and compelling teen detective-in-the-making as she embarks on her very first investigation, as well as winding up tangled in a second to boot involving a young runaway noble, Viscount Tewkesbury, the Marquess of Basilwether (Medici’s Louis Partridge), and the film is a breezy, swift-paced and rewardingly entertaining romp that feels like a welcome breath of fresh air for a literary property which, beloved as it may be, has been adapted to death over the years.  Enola Holmes a brilliant young hero who’s perfectly crafted to carry the franchise forward in fresh new directions, and Brown brings her to life with effervescent charm, boisterous energy and mischievous irreverence that are entirely irresistible; Cavill and Claflin, meanwhile, are perfectly cast as the two very different brothers – this Sherlock is much less louche and world-weary than most previous versions, still razor sharp and intellectually restless but with a comfortable ease and a youthful spring in his step that perfectly suits the actor, while Mycroft is as superior and arrogant as ever, a preening arse we derive huge enjoyment watching Enola consistently get the best of; Bonham Carter doesn’t get a lot of screen-time but as we’d expect she does a lot with what she has to make the practical, eccentric and unapologetically modern Eudoria thoroughly memorable, while Partridge is carefree and likeable as the naïve but irresistible Tewkesbury, and there are strong supporting turns from Frances de la Tour as his stately grandmother, the Dowager, Susie Wokoma (Crazyhead, Truth Seekers) as Emily, a feisty suffragette who runs a jujitsu studio, Burn Gorman as dastardly thug-for-hire Linthorn, and Four Lions’ Adeel Akhtar as a particularly scuzzy Inspector Lestrade.  Seasoned TV director Harry Bradbeer (Fleabag, Killing Eve) makes his feature debut with an impressive splash, unfolding the action at a brisk pace while keeping the narrative firmly focused on an intricate mystery plot that throws in plenty of ingenious twists and turns before a suitably atmospheric climax and pleasing denouement which nonetheless artfully sets up more to come in the future, while screenwriter Jack Thorne (His Dark Materials, The Scouting Book for Boys, Wonder) delivers strong character work and liberally peppers the dialogue with a veritable cavalcade of witty zingers.  Boisterous, compelling, amusing, affecting and exciting in equal measure, this is a spirited and appealing slice of cinematic escapism that flatters its viewers and never talks down to them, a perfect little period adventure for a cosy Sunday afternoon.  Obviously there’s plenty of potential for more, and with further books to adapt there’s more than enough material for a pile of sequels – Neflix would be barmy indeed to turn their nose up at this opportunity …

3.  1917 – it’s a rare thing for a film to leave me truly shell-shocked by its sheer awesomeness, for me to walk out of a cinema in a genuine daze, unable to talk or even really think about much of anything for a few hours because I’m simply marvelling at what I’ve just witnessed.  Needless to say, when I do find a film like that (Fight Club, Inception, Mad Max: Fury Road) it usually earns a place very close to my heart indeed.  The latest tour-de-force from Sam Mendes is one of those films – an epic World War I thriller that plays out ENTIRELY in one shot, which doesn’t simply feel like a glorified gimmick or stunt but instead is a genuine MASTERPIECE of film, a mesmerising journey of emotion and imagination in a shockingly real environment that’s impossible to tear your eyes away from.  Sure, Mendes has impressed us before – his first film, American Beauty, is a GREAT movie, one of the most impressive feature debuts of the 2000s, while Skyfall is, in my opinion, quite simply THE BEST BOND FILM EVER MADE – but this is in a whole other league.  It’s an astounding achievement, made all the more impressive when you realise that there’s very little trickery at play here, no clever digital magic (just some augmentation here and there), it’s all real locations and sets, filmed in long, elaborately choreographed takes blended together with clever edits to make it as seamless as possible – it’s not the first film to try to do this (remember Birdman? Bushwick?), but I’ve never seen it done better, or with greater skill. But it’s not just a clever cinematic exercise, there’s a genuine story here, told with guts and urgency, and populated by real flesh and blood characters – the heart of the film is True History of the Kelly Gang’s George MacKay and Dean Chapman (probably best known as Tommen Baratheon in Game of Thrones) as Lance Corporals Will Schofield and Tom Blake, the two young tommies sent out across enemy territory on a desperate mission to stop a British regiment from rushing headlong into a German trap (Tom himself has a personal stake in this because his brother is an officer in the attack).  They’re a likeable pair, very human and relatable throughout, brave and true but never so overtly heroic that they stretch credibility, so when tragedy strikes along the way it’s particularly devastating; both deliver exceptional performances that effortlessly carry us through the film, and they’re given sterling support from a selection of top-drawer British talent, from Sherlock stars Andrew Scott and Benedict Cumberbatch to Mark Strong and Colin Firth, each delivering magnificently in small but potent cameos.  That said, the cinematography and art department are the BIGGEST stars here, masterful veteran DOP Roger Deakins (The Shawshank Redemption, Blade Runner 2049 and pretty much the Coen Brothers’ entire back catalogue among MANY others) making every frame sing with beauty, horror, tension or tragedy as the need arises, and the environments are SO REAL it feels less like production design than that someone simply sent the cast and crew back in time to film in the real Northern France circa 1917 – from a nightmarish trek across No Man’s Land to a desperate chase through a ruined French village lit only by dancing flare-light in the darkness before dawn, every scene is utterly immersive and simply STUNNING.  I don’t think it’s possible for Mendes to make a film better than this, but I sure hope he gives it a go all the same.  Either way, this was the most incredible, exhausting, truly AWESOME experience I had at the cinema all year – it’s a film that DESERVES to be seen on the big screen, and I feel truly sorry for those who missed the chance …

2.  BIRDS OF PREY & THE FANTABULOUS EMANCIPATION OF ONE HARLEY QUINN – the only reason 1917 isn’t at number two is because Warner Bros.’ cinematic DC Extended Universe project FINALLY got round to bringing my favourite DC Comics title to the big screen.  It was been the biggest pleasure of my cinematic year getting to see my top DC superheroines brought to life on the big screen, and it was done in high style, in my opinion THE BEST of the DCEU films to date (yup, I loved it EVEN MORE than the Wonder Woman movies).  It was also great seeing Harley Quinn return after her show-stealing turn in David Ayer’s clunky but ultimately still hugely enjoyable Suicide Squad, better still that they got her SPOT ON this time – this is the Harley I’ve always loved in the comics, unpredictable, irreverent and entirely without regard for what anyone else thinks of her, as well as one talented psychiatrist.  Margot Robbie once more excels in the role she was basically BORN to play, clearly relishing the chance to finally do Harley TRUE justice, and she’s a total riot from start to finish, infectiously lovable no matter what crazy, sometimes downright REPRIHENSIBLE antics she gets up to.  Needless to say she’s the nominal star here, her latest ill-advised adventure driving the story – finally done with the Joker and itching to make her emancipation official, Harley publicly announces their breakup by blowing up Ace Chemicals (their love spot, basically), inadvertently painting a target on her back in the process since she’s no longer under the assumed protection of Gotham’s feared Clown Prince of Crime – but that doesn’t mean she eclipses the other main players the movie’s REALLY supposed to be about.  Each member of the Birds of Prey is beautifully written and brought to vivid, arse-kicking life by what had to be 2020’s most exciting cast – Helena Bertinelli, the Huntress, is the perfect character for Mary Elizabeth Winstead to finally pay off on that action hero potential she showed in Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, but this is a MUCH more enjoyable role outside of the fight choreography because while Helena may be a world-class dark avenger, socially she’s a total dork, which just makes her thoroughly adorable; Rosie Perez is similarly perfect casting as Renee Montoya, the uncompromising pint-sized Gotham PD detective who kicks against the corrupt system no matter what kind of trouble it gets her into, and just gets angrier all the time, paradoxically making us like her even more; and then there’s the film’s major controversy, at least as far as the fans are concerned, namely one Cassandra Cain.  Sure, this take is VERY different from the comics’ version (a nearly mute master assassin who went on to become the second woman to wear the mask of Batgirl before assuming her own crime-fighting mantle as Black Bat and now Orphan), but personally I like to think this is simply Cass at THE VERY START of her origin story, leaving plenty of time for her to discover her warrior origins when the DCEU finally gets around to introducing her mum, Lady Shiva (personally I want Michelle Yeoh to play her, but that’s just me) – anyways, here she’s a skilled child pickpocket whose latest theft inadvertently sets off the larger central plot, and newcomer Ella Jay Basco brings a fantastic pre-teen irreverence and spiky charm to the role, beautifully playing against Robbie’s mercurial energy.  My favourite here BY FAR, however, is Dinah Lance, aka the Black Canary (not only my favourite Bird of Prey but my very favourite DC superheroine PERIOD), the choice of up-and-comer Jurnee Smollet-Bell (Friday Night Lights, Underground) proving to be the film’s most inspired casting – a club singer with the metahuman ability to emit piercing supersonic screams, she’s also a ferocious martial artist (in the comics she’s one of the very best fighters IN THE WORLD), as well as a wonderfully pure soul you just can’t help loving, and it made me SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY that they got my Canary EXACTLY RIGHT.  Altogether they’re a fantastic bunch of badass ladies, basically my perfect superhero team, and the way they’re all brought together (along with Harley, of course) is beautifully thought out and perfectly executed … they’ve also got one hell of a threat to overcome, namely Gotham crime boss Roman Sionis, the Black Mask, one of the Joker’s chief rivals – Ewan McGregor brings his A-game in a frustratingly rare villainous turn (my number one bad guy for the movie year), a monstrously narcissistic, woman-hating control freak with a penchant for peeling off the faces of those who displease him, sharing some exquisitely creepy chemistry with Chris Messina (The Mindy Project) as Sionis’ nihilistic lieutenant Victor Zsasz.  This is about as good as superhero cinema gets, a perfect example of the sheer brilliance you get when you switch up the formula to create something new, an ultra-violent, unapologetically R-rated middle finger to the classic tropes, a fantastic black comedy thrill ride that’s got to be the most full-on feminist blockbuster ever made – it’s helmed by a woman (Dead Pigs director Cathy Yan), written by a woman (Bumblebee’s Christina Hodson), produced by more women and ABOUT a bunch of badass women magnificently triumphing over toxic masculinity in all its forms.  It’s also simply BRILLIANT – the cast are all clearly having a blast, the action sequences are first rate (the spectacular GCPD evidence room fight in which Harley gets to REALLY cut loose is the undisputable highlight), it has a gleefully anarchic sense of humour and is simply BURSTING with phenomenal homages, references and in-jokes for the fans (Bruce the hyena! Stuffed beaver! Roller derby!).  It’s also got a killer soundtrack, populated almost exclusively by numbers from female artists.  Altogether, then, this is the VERY BEST the DCEU has to offer to date, and VERY NEARLY my absolute FAVOURITE film of 2020.  Give it all the love you can, it sure as hell deserves it.

1.  TENET – granted, the streaming platforms (particularly Netflix and Amazon) certainly saved our cinematic summer, but I’m still IMMEASURABLY glad that my ultimate top-spot winner FOR THE WHOLE YEAR was one I got to experience on THE BIG SCREEN. You gotta hand it to Christopher Nolan, he sure hung in there, stubbornly determined that his latest cinematic masterpiece WOULD be released in cinemas in the summer (albeit ultimately landing JUST inside the line in the final week of August and ultimately taking the bite at the box office because of the still shaky atmosphere), and it was worth all the fuss because, for me, this was THE PERFECT MOVIE for me to get return to cinemas with.  I mean, okay, in the end it WASN’T the FIRST new movie I saw after the first reopening, that honour went to Unhinged, but THIS was my first real Saturday night-out big screen EXPERIENCE since March.  Needless to say, Nolan didn’t disappoint this time any more than he has on any of his consistently spectacular previous releases, delivering another twisted, mind-boggling headfuck of a full-blooded experiential sensory overload that comes perilously close to toppling his long-standing auteur-peak, Inception (itself second only by fractions to The Dark Knight as far as I’m concerned). To say much at all about the plot would give away major spoilers – personally I’d recommend just going in as cold as possible, indeed you really should just stop reading this right now and just GO SEE IT.  Still with us?  Okay … the VERY abridged version is that it’s about a secret war being waged between the present and the future by people capable of “inverting” time in substances, objects, people, whatever, into which the Protagonist (BlacKkKlansman’s John David Washington), an unnamed CIA agent, has been dispatched in order to prevent a potential coming apocalypse. Washington is once again on top form, crafting a robust and compelling morally complex heroic lead who’s just as comfortable negotiating the minefields of black market intrigue as he is breaking into places or dispatching heavies, Kenneth Branagh delivers one of his most interesting and memorable performances in years as brutal Russian oligarch Andrei Sator, a genuinely nasty piece of work who was ALMOST the year’s very best screen villain, Elizabeth Debicki (The Night Manager, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Widows) brings strength, poise and wounded integrity to the role of Sator’s estranged wife, Kat, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson gets to use his own accent for once as tough-as-nails British Intelligence officer Ives, while there are brief but consistently notable supporting turns and cameos from Martin Donovan, Yesterday’s Himesh Patel, Dirk Gently’s Fiona Dourif and, of course, Nolan’s good luck charm, Michael Caine.  The cast’s biggest surprise, however, is Robert Pattinson, truly a revelation in what has to be, HANDS DOWN, his best role to date, Neil, the Protagonist’s mysterious handler – he’s by turns cheeky, slick, duplicitous and thoroughly badass, delivering an enjoyably multi-layered, chameleonic performance which proves what I’ve long maintained, that the former Twilight star is actually a fucking amazing actor, and on the basis of this, even if that amazing new teaser trailer wasn’t making the rounds, I think the debate about whether or not he’s the right choice for the new Batman is now academic.  As we’ve come to expect from Nolan, this is a TRUE tour-de-force experience, a visual triumph and an endlessly engrossing head-scratcher, Nolan’s screenplay bringing in seriously big ideas and throwing us some major narrative knots and loopholes, constantly wrong-footing the viewer while also setting up truly revelatory payoffs from seemingly low-key, unimportant beginnings – this is a film you need to be awake and attentive for or you could miss something pretty vital. The action sequences are, as ever, second to none, some of the year’s very best set-pieces coming thick and fast and executed with some of the most accomplished skill in the business, while Nolan-regular cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar and Dunkirk, as well as the heady likes of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, SPECTRE and Ad Astra) once again shows he’s one of the best camera-wizards in the business today by delivering some absolutely mesmerising visuals.  Notably, Nolan’s other regular collaborator, composer Hans Zimmer, is absent here (although he had good reason, since he was working on his dream project at the time, the fast-approaching screen adaptation of Dune), but Ludwig Göransson (best known for his collaborations with Ryan Coogler Fruitvale Station, Creed and Black Panther, as well as career-best work on The Mandalorian) is a fine replacement, crafting an intriguingly internalised, post-modern musical landscape that thrums and pulses in time with the story and emotions of the characters rather than the action itself. Interestingly it’s on the subject of sound that some of the film’s rare detractions have been levelled, and I can see some of the points – the soundtrack mix is an all-encompassing thing, and there are times when the dialogue can be overwhelmed, but in Nolan’s defence this film is a heady, immersive experience, something you really need to concentrate on, so these potential flaws are easily forgiven.  As a work of filmmaking art, this is another flawless wonder from one of the true masters of the craft working in cinema today, but it’s art with palpable substance, a rewarding whole that proved truly unbeatable in 2020 …

[topweeklyupdate]

TØP Weekly Update #142: A Formidable Album (5/21/21)

So... how 'bout that album release week?

There's so much to cover; the release of nine new songs, the hype that's building for the World's Best Band to return to the stage, and (if we're able to come up for air) the massive speculation of what the future brings for our band.

I'm gonna get right into it, laying out my thoughts regarding this bold new album and covering all the most notable news from the week. I'll be sharing my (mostly) positive opinions about Scaled and Icy under the Read More line; I hope they're the start of a fun conversation with all of y'all who have stuck around through this last year.

Scaled and Icy Review

First, my general thoughts on the album: It's good! Really good. Do I think it's a no-skip like Vessel or a cohesive piece of art like Trench? Absolutely not! But it's also not the potential misfire that I worried that we might be getting when I first heard "Saturday" (more on that later); I think all of the songs are at least good, and some of them are downright great tracks that hold up with anything else that our band has ever released. It is also indisputably very different, but I think that generally works pretty well. Many of the songs evoke '60s rock or Britpop sounds and structures that you can tell Tyler is still trying to navigate, but I think he does a very solid job at adapting them to suit his strengths- namely his lyricism and knack for melody- rather than change to suit them. Unfortunately, this does result in a bit of square-peg-in-round-hole syndrome at times; most of the rap verses on the album feel like they're here just to fulfill an obligation to fans who would be mad if they weren't here, and most of the songs that use them are the weakest ones in the project.

"Good Day" plays a major role in getting the rest of the album to work as well as it does. Its gradual ramp-up, introducing the sound that will be used throughout the rest of the album. Its playfulness belies its message about how one can project a somewhat false optimism for oneself in the midst of tragedy: the type of dark stuff in a bright package that Tyler is so so good at. It's perhaps not an instant classic, but I am excited to see how it comes across when it's eventually used as a show-opener. 9/10

I've of course already discussed "Shy Away"; an anthemic, inimitably catchy track that I just wish had a bit more going on under the hood. Still going to be so good to hear thousands of voices scream "An 'I LOVE YOU' that isn't words!" someday. 9.5/10

"Choker" definitely took a little bit to grow on me. I think part of that was a bit of disappointment from over-inflated expectations and the environment I was in when I first heard it. With further listens, I fall more and more in love with the melody of the song... well, most of it. Like the rest of this album, the biggest weakness in the song is when Tyler tries to tick the box of having a rap verse; it just feels really out of place, unfinished, and almost amateurish, and it doesn't end the song on the note that it really should. Without it, it'd be one of my favorites on the album; with it, "Choker" is a solid 8.5/10.

Speaking of unfinished-sounding songs really hurt by their rap verse: "The Outside". There's a definite something to the vibe of the song, but that seemingly nonsensical verse is one of the two weakest parts of the entire project for me. The way the song meanders only adds to the feeling that there wasn't as much energy and attention paid to it compared to other parts of the project. It's pretty easily my least favorite track on Scaled and Icy, and the only one I might regularly skip. I've also seen plenty of people saying it's the best song on the album, so please tell me why I'm wrong! 6.5/10

"Saturday", as mentioned above, had me really nervous about this album. Like "Choker", it's grown on me a bit since I first heard it, in part because it fits better with the context of the rest of the album. However, this one really does feel undercooked lyrically and overreliant on the novelty of using a disco-inspired sound that seems to chase trends more than almost any other TØP track. The inclusion of that very sweet audio clip from Jenna boosts the song in some ways, but also adds to the disappointment in others; there are many other songs on this project that would be more worth surrendering time watching Friends. Thankfully, those come next. 7/10

"Never Take It" is fascinating. I never thought I'd hear a Rolling Stones-style song from Tyler Joseph featuring a gd guitar solo of all things, and it actually sounds pretty great. However, I also predict that this song will see some of the greatest critical scrutiny out of all the songs on the album. The lyrics seem to be Tyler's criticism of the media for playing up division in our society, but he's extremely vague when discussing which entities are spreading said division and ultimately recommends that people "educate yourself, but never too much". I'll be honest: maybe it's the fact that it sounds like something my dad would listen to, but it feels like this would get tons of play on Fox News. Since it makes specific reference to the events of last summer, it's hard not to feel like song is at least partially inspired by Tyler's brush with cancellation last year. Maybe I'm reading too deeply into it, but those reservations come from the song's lack of specificity, which is an issue of songwriting more than politics. They hold me back from truly loving a song that still manages to be one of the most exciting the band has ever put out. 8.5/10

"Mulberry Street" seems like the perfect realization of the entire album's intended tone. It is so pleasant, so lush while also simply produced, full of great lyrics, metaphors, and imagery. It really brings the whole project together, even if it's missing That One Line to really move this up to the top tier of the canon. 9.5/10

"Formidable" is the best song on the album and one of two songs I would truly rank in the top tier of the band's canon. Extremely pleasant and brimming with well-crafted lines to make your heart swoon. Jenna (and Rosie) is (are) a lucky gal(s). Or is it about Josh? Who's to say? 10/10

"Bounce Man" is just plain wild. I think Tyler's smuggling someone to Mexico to escape the feds? The playfulness of it all really covers up any frustration I might have with the clarity; it makes it clear that there's not really stakes here, just vibes. 8.5/10

"No Chances" sees the album take a turn that I'm sure the Reddit Clique is going to have an absolute field day with; it and "Redecorate" both sound quite different from the rest of the album and evoke enough elements of Trench to make me think that's it's actually possible that all this 'SAI is Propaganda' stuff might actually have something to it... until I actually pick apart the lyrics, then I'm even more confused. The song has some of the best rapping on the album, though that's not saying much (the feng shui line is a groaner right out the gate) and the gentle pre-chorus is really pleasant. I still haven't made up my mind on whether the chorus is effective or just plain goofy. This one might get worse or better on repeat listens, impossible to say for now. 7.5/10

"Redecorate" rounds out the album by opening with a Clancy quote (Tyler, you bastard), firmly setting this as a coda to Trench more than the album we just listened to. The rest of the song is really storytelling, with Tyler describing a bunch of people who are struggling deeply. The idea of "redecorating" here stands for how they are faced with the option to clean and resort their own spaces and lives or leave that to their loved ones to do after they're gone. By the time it gets to the album's name drop, you begin to wonder how much of this is potential autobiographical of the last year. It's moving stuff, a callback to some of the great strengths of the band's discography. 10/10

If I average those scores all up, this project ranks below almost every album among the Pilots discography on my rating scale, very narrowly edging out Self-Titled. That's still a very solid 8.6. Scaled and Icy is a very good album on first listen. We'll see how I feel about it after having a little more time to sit with it, but I've rambled enough: let's move through the rest of the week's news.

Other News

Of course, there was a lot else going on this week! To accompany the release of "Saturday", Zane Lowe over at Apple Music dropped an interview with Tyler. As usual, Zane did a pretty solid job of getting to the heart of the craft and the creation process. However, Tyler also wound up skirting a lot of the questions to just talk more about how much he loves being a dad, which makes me happy; if the cost of getting a little less attention and mental energy devoted to the music is that little girl getting all of his attention, that's honestly preferable for me.

The album rollout is not even close to over. Later today, the concert will be streamed live. It's our first real performance that we've gotten from the band since 2019, but the previews that we've seen have completely exceeded any of my expectations, and really anything that we've seen from the band. It appears that they've transformed the entire arena (which I think is the ol' Schott at Ohio State) into a whole TØP world, with different sets laden with Easter eggs and a cast of backup dancers. If the website can hold up to the traffic (and I acknowledge that might be a big ask), this could really live up to Tyler's promise of this being the best livestreamed concert ever.

Oh, and this guy dyed his hair pink.

What a time to be a fan. Catch you all tomorrow.

Power to the local dreamer.

|-/

[patchofsunlight]

Backyard Boy | Sokka x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Mordern!AU | Sokka goes out on a date with his best friend, and it goes as perfectly as he longed it to.

REQUEST (by anon): “In my Sokka feels so I thought I’d request! Could be modern or not but the reader would be in the gang and is best friends with Sokka (who has a fat crush on her). One day he asks her to go on a picnic, just the 2 of them, she doesn’t know if it’s a date or not so she asks her gal pals for help getting ready. She and Sokka have fun (piggyback rides, eating food, making eachother laugh) at the end of their date they cuddle, look into eachothers eyes and kiss. Their friends called it! Thank you!💕”

WORD COUNT: 2.6k this is the first thing I’ve ever posted here with less than 5k I’m proud

WARNINGS: yes I made Jin from Ba Sing Se Y/N’s friend. I think there’s one swear word near the end? also just teeth-rotting fluff. a bit of angst if you squint but like just a little. bad editing as usual. kinda rushed? idk

PLAYLIST (songs that help set the ~vibe + songs that inspired me): Backyard Boy by Claire Rosinkranz ; Electric Love by BØRNS, I Do Adore by Mindy Gledhill ; Lucky by Jason Mraz feat. Colbie Caillat.

Hey! I had a lot of fun and smiled a lot while writing this, so I hope you guys like it too! It’s not perfect, but I tried my best. Feedback is always appreciated! Thank you for reading!

(not my gif)

“You know what? Maybe this was a bad idea, Jin. Maybe I got it all wrong. I should just cancel.”

“Absolutely not. If you cancel, I’ll be forced to punch you in the face, and no one wants that.”

“You don’t even have the guts to punch me in the face.”

“True. Well, I’ll just get someone else to do it.”

Y/N smiled nervously at her friend’s words, fidgeting.

Sokka and she had been best friends for a long while. They had met years ago and clicked instantly, falling in pace with each other so easily that “impressive” was a big understatement — friendship at first sight, he called it. And yet Y/N yearned for more, trying miserably to conceal her dazed smiles and flushed cheeks whenever he as much as looked her way. Her feelings were obvious, but she was too afraid to act on them: it was easier to just leave it alone, pretend the pounding of her heart when around him was ignorable, and maintain her dear relationship with pretty boy Sokka secure. Y/N would choose never having her feelings returned over losing him any day of the week, and it was probably for the best. 

She couldn’t lose him, she refused to — he was more important than whatever love she gathered in her chest, than letting go of the suffocating confession always lingering on the tip of her tongue, and she simply wouldn’t let herself lose him.

Y/N was finally settling for the friendship and painful longing when the Water Tribe boy came to her during one of the Gaang’s movie nights, scratching his neck shyly and avoiding her stare.

“Hey, Y/N,” his voice was slightly high-pitched and he cleared his throat, blushing lightly, talking quietly so as to not disturb the others around them, “I—I was thinking—maybe we could, I don’t know, hang out? Tomorrow?”

“That sounds great, Sokka. Didn’t Toph want to try that new restaurant that opened near the Jasmine Dragon?” she replied almost absentmindedly, eyes trained on the scene playing on the television.

“No, Y/N, I—I thought—Well, what if it was just the two of us?”

Now that had caught her attention, “oh.”

“Yeah. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I—”

“I’d love to, Sokka.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she smiled softly, cheeks reddening, and Sokka wondered if she could hear his heart skip a beat inside his chest.

“That’s great. I—” he couldn’t stop his own face from blazing pink, a grin taking over his lips, “I was thinking of a picnic?”

Cue to the present moment, in which Y/N freaked out about misunderstanding Sokka’s words because he had never really called it a date and she had gotten all excited about it as if that’s what it was but what if it wasn’t?

“I don’t know, Jin,” she peeked at her own reflection, noticing how pretty she looked and how flawlessly Jin had styled her hair. Spirits, Y/N had overdone it, hadn’t she? “Maybe he just wanted to spend some time with his best friend and I just projected what I wanted onto that and—”

“Y/N, stop,” the Ba Sing Se girl held her forearms to intercept the frantic movements, “I’m pretty sure he sees you as much more than a friend, okay? You guys have been dancing around each other’s feelings for years now, everyone sees it,” she widened her eyes to emphasize her words, “so stop being crazy and just go meet him! Even if we’re all wrong and he wants nothing to do with you romantically, you can still go and have a good time, right?”

“Right,” Y/N muttered in response, breathing deeply, “right, you’re right. I’m just—I’m just gonna go.”

“Yes! Good luck! It’s gonna be great, I’m sure of it!”

-----

Food, drinks, flowers, extra sweatshirt, the comfy blankets he had stolen from Katara’s apartment, all the courage he could muster, her favorite candy, the blue shirt she had said looked good on him. Yeah, it seemed like he had it all pretty much covered.

Sokka was nervous, yet confident. She had accepted to go on a date with him and he had done the best he could to make sure it would be a lovely afternoon Y/N would absolutely adore. Everything would go as planned and, if he was lucky, he would leave Y/N’s favorite park with a girlfriend.

However, nothing could have prepared him for finally seeing her. She looked as beautiful as always, but there was something about her shy smile and sparkling eyes that made his heart jump around so quickly Sokka thought it might just break through his chest and run towards her.

His best friend walked to him with hands behind her back, endearingly bashful in that old manner that had slowly creeped its way into Sokka’s thoughts and heart. He beamed at her when she reached him, and moved for a hug she gladly returned.

“Hey,” her voice was quiet and shy and it made the Water Tribe boy melt on the spot, “did I make you wait for too long?”

“No, of course not,” Y/N took a step back from the hug and he immediately missed her warmth. Spirits, he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Do you want to sit down? Katara helped me make those sandwiches you like.”

Her eyes widened in excitement, quickly remembering how easy it was to be around her best friend and how pointless it was to be shy with him, “yes! Sure!”

Their banter was lighthearted while they ate their sandwiches and sipped on some orange juice, laying on Katara’s soft blanket. He couldn’t help but admire her figure, her smile, her eyes, her voice, tuning out from her anecdote momentarily and simply appreciating her presence. He liked her so much.

Y/N paused when she noticed Sokka’s stare, gaze filled with affection sending chills down her spine. She stared back at him, feeling her face blush, “I feel like I should have brought something,” she complained, touching the candy bar the boy had taken off his backpack and smiling — it was her favorite one. “You put so much thought into this, didn’t you?”

He scratched his neck, embarrassed, “is it too much?”

“No, no!” she was quick to deny, lifting a hand up to touch his upper arm in reassurance. “It’s—it’s kinda charming, really.”

Sokka smirked teasingly, “oh, you think I’m charming?”

“You know I do, dumbass.”

Their eyes met and the Water Tribe boy could feel his whole body tense for being the subject of her attention, heart beating so loud he could hear it by his ear, unable to not ask himself if maybe she could hear it too. She smiled — her hand was still on his upper arm, but she moved it carefully until their fingers brushed. He smiled too, his thumb drawing gentle circles on her palm. As best friends, they had always been very touchy and loving with each other, yet both knew this was different. It was not like their friendly touches and hugs: it was softer, more hesitant, new. And they loved it.

“I’m glad you came,” he declared, finally letting his fingers fall in between hers, “I… I like to be around you.”

Y/N grinned, squeezing his hand lovingly, “I like to be around you too.”

Their small staring contest ended when she took the last bite of the sandwich and got her phone from her purse, turning on some music and positioning the object next to them in the blanket. Sokka grinned at her, aware of how much she just loved to listen to music while doing everyday things — he loved to be included in that little habit, loved to know she felt comfortable enough to let him be a part of it. It was a small gesture, but Y/N had once told him she avoided listening to music around others so as not to be a bother. He loved the fact she didn’t worry about that when next to him.

Spirits, he loved her. He had known it for a while now, yet being with her like this served to set it in stone: Sokka was in love with his best friend, and there were absolutely no doubts about it.

They talked softly over the nice melody, occasionally falling into laughter with crappy jokes and inside references that always got them cackling, fingers unconsciously playing with each other by their sides, finding comfort in the simple but intimate touch.

“Sokka! Listen!” she lit up suddenly, making him shake his head in confusion. Y/N stood up, pulling his hand with her until he did the same. Her eyes shone with agitation while she dragged him until they were standing on the grass, off the blanket.

“What?” his voice was as incredulous as he felt. “What happened?”

“I love this song,” she smiled brightly and his heart skipped a beat at the beautiful sight. The girl slowly but surely positioned his hands on her waist before circling his neck with her arms. “Dance with me, pretty boy.”

Sokka was entirely sure that wasn’t exactly a song you could slow dance to, with the funky rhythm and all, yet he didn’t have it in him to disagree. She swayed from one side to the other in a way that would give Zuko, who was trained in dancing, an attack of sorts, but he still loved it, letting her lead him wherever she wanted to. They danced in silence — Sokka kept admiring her features, watching as she hummed the song’s tune and gazed at the sky behind him. Sunset was nearing closer and the shades of blue were slowly being exchanged for oranges and yellows that she loved almost as much as she loved the boy in front of her. With that thought, she turned her eyes back to him.

“This is nice,” she muttered, content, and he smiled, planting an affectionate kiss on her forehead that killed every coherent idea in her mind, “really nice.”

Sokka snickered, “I agree, pretty girl.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and stepped backwards, crossing her arms defensively, cheeks reddening immediately, “don’t call me that.”

“Why not, pretty girl?”

“Because it makes me blush! Stop it”

“But you look so cute when you blush, pretty girl.”

“Stop.”

“Oh, come on, pretty girl.”

“I’m gonna punch you.”

“You could never, pretty girl.”

“You better run. One…”

He laughed out loud and she did her best to ignore both the pinkness to her face and the smile fighting to reach her lips.

“Two…”

Sokka couldn’t stop laughing while he took off, running away from her as fast as possible. His laughter was light and cheerful and her chest fluttered at the sound, extasiated by the fact she was actually responsible for it. Y/N ran after him with a big grin on her face, intent on catching her best friend. Laughing made it harder for him to take deep breaths so it didn’t take long for her to be able to jump on his back, creating an impromptu piggyback ride between the two lovers. Sokka was still wheezing when running with the girl on his back, making her scream in excitement.

He made sure the blanket was right underneath before throwing himself to the ground, bringing her along. She giggled as he turned around so she was laying on his chest, not on his back. He held her tightly in a hug and she rested her head on his shoulder after kissing his neck so softly Sokka was certain his soul momentarily left his body, pulse so accelerated he truly feared a heart attack. They waited for their frantic breaths to calm down, holding each other dearly, entangling their legs together. He could hear her sigh happily next to his ear.

They stayed in that position for long  minutes, too stubborn to let go just yet, to give up on the indescribable feeling this type of touch caused them. Never before had Y/N felt this safe, her best friend’s erratic heart beating against her chest, his warm hands keeping her in place so firmly and still so gently — she always knew she had feelings for this boy, but now she couldn’t help but think of how she wouldn’t mind staying by his side forever. She wouldn’t mind listening to his stupid voice forever, wouldn’t mind being next to him forever. That realization was enough to stir her from her spot atop him, moving under his reluctant arms until her forearms supported her upper body and she could lift herself to look at him.

He was so beautiful, and, Spirits, she loved him so much.

Y/N ran her hands through his messy hair, making him hum in delight. She smiled.

“I love you, Sokka. So much.”

He smiled back, heartbeat picking up under her skin, “I love you too, pretty girl. More than I could ever put in words.”

They leaned in at the same time, lips molding together tenderly. She tasted like candy and he revelled in every second of it, bringing a hand to hold her neck as he deepened the kiss — nothing had ever felt so right.

Sokka followed her lips blindly when Y/N distanced herself and she chuckled, pressing an endearing kiss to the tip of his nose before blurting, absolutely embarrassed, “you know, before I came I was freaking out because I thought maybe you asked me out as a friend.”

He laughed and she loved the way his chest rumbled underneath her, “you’re unbelievable! Are you kidding?”

“I’m not! Ask Jin, she wanted to kick my ass because of it.”

“You’re an idiot. I have been in love with you for so long, I thought it was obvious!”

“It probably was, but we both know I’m bad at taking hints.”

“Not just bad, you’re the worst at taking hints.”

“Okay, now you’re overdoing it.”

“Shut up and kiss me again, Y/N.”

“Well, if you insist…”

“I do.”

The girl giggled and smashed her lips to his again, feeling her heart full with happiness and love. She questioned herself why she had been so nervous about this in the first place — Y/N should have known there was no way something could go wrong if she was accompanied by her favorite boy in the whole world.

-----

The phone rang twice before Jin’s voice came on, “hello?”

“Hey, I just got home.”

“How was it? Did you have fun?”

“Well…”

“Oh, no,” she was immediately worried out of her mind, afraid of any bad news her friend could possibly deliver after what was supposed to be a great date with the guy she was in love with, “did something happen?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Y/N bit her lip to hold back a snort, heart not entirely calm yet, excitedly remembering all the sensations Sokka made her feel.

“What, baby? Talk to me.”

“I got a boyfriend.”

One second of silence.

“OH, I FUCKING CALLED IT! I TOLD YOU HE WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU! I TOLD YOU!”

“That’s true.”

“I TOLD YOU IT WAS A DATE!”

“You surely did,” Y/N had a large smile on her face, skin still tingling with the reminder of his touch against it, lips itching to be pressed to his again.

“I love being right,” she could hear the grin in Jin’s words and it made her smile grow ever larger, “now you know to never doubt me, stupid ass.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

that was it!! I hope you liked it!!

ATLA taglist: @bottledcostcowater​ @lammello​ @coldlilheart​ @azucanela​ @samsmultifandomblogs​ @officiallydarkgeek​ @20coldhearts​

all taglist: @stfukie​ 

thank you for reading and see you soon!!

[pines-troz]

Weekend With The Warners Chapter Three - Animaniacs & Pinky and The Brain

Summary: When the CEO assigns Pinky and The Brain with the important task of watching over the Warners for the weekend, Brain is prepared for any antics that the children have in store. What he didn’t take into account was forming a familial bond with the kids.

Word Count: 7,652

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849962/chapters/68854656

The big day had arrived and the two genetically altered lab mice were on top of their schedule. Brain had set his alarm clock to 6:00 AM. He and Pinky woke up and gathered their belongings. Brain decided to bring along his newly modified robotic man-suit just as a precaution. Once the mice were ready to go, Brain hopped into the pilot seat of his robot and placed their mouse-sized suitcases into his pants pocket. Pinky climbed up the suit and made himself snug as a bug in the front pocket. The intelligent mouse steered the suit and exited the lab at around 7:00 AM, about an hour before any of the scientists would arrive for work.

The mice made their way down the streets of Burbank and decided to have breakfast at a local diner. There, they spent a little of an hour consuming their morning meals and engaging in some casual conversation together.

By the time they arrived at the Warner movie lot, it was a quarter to nine, and the mice swung by the main office building to retrieve the credit card from Nora Rita Norita. When the mice made it to the top floor, Brain made his way over to her office and gingerly knocked on the door.

“Enter!” The CEO boomed from the other side.

Brain cautiously opened the door to find Ms. Norita in her workout attire stretching on the treadmill. She took the small towel and scrubbed the sweat off of her face before tossing it over the handle.

“You must be here for the credit card, I take it?” The businesswoman remarked as she eyed Brain’s robotic suit.

Brain wordlessly nodded while trying his best to muster his courage while confronting the higher-up. Ms. Norita went over to her desk, opened the drawer, and retrieved the golden credit card. Pinky’s eyes lit up upon seeing the glistening card again. He eagerly reached out for the card, enamored with its shimmering aura.

“Try not to have too much fun over the weekend, gentlemen.” Nora Rita Nortia humored in her flat voice as she gave Pinky the credit card, who immediately hugged it.

“We won’t,” Brain assured, trying to hide his anxiousness from the formidable businesswoman as he made his exit. “I guarantee you that Pinky and myself will have an appropriate amount of fun while supervising the Warner siblings.” With a nervous chuckle, Brain grabbed the doorknob and carefully closed the door on his way out.

Once the mice left Ms. Norita’s office, Brain exhaled and leaned up against the wall as he gazed at his partner. “Pinky, I would be a liar if I told you that the CEO was not the least bit intimidating.”

“I heard that, and I plan on using that information to my advantage.” Ms. Norita shouted from behind the door.

Brain’s eyes widened with terror. Now that the CEO knew his weakness and planned on exploiting it, he had no choice but to stay in her good graces in the foreseeable future.

“Very well.” He muttered as he made his way towards the elevator. “Pinky, hand me the cellphone. I’m going to arrange an Uber driver to pick us from the movie lot at noon.”

Pinky turned on the smartphone and smiled. “Hey Brain, we just got a text message from Dot!”

The pudgy mouse retrieved the phone from Pinky and read the message.

We’ll be outside the water tower by 11:45 <3

Once the mice left the office building, they killed some time by strolling around the movie lot and making idle chit-chat. They arrived at the water tower ten minutes beforehand where they patiently waited for the Warners to arrive. However, the three rambunctious siblings proved to be fashionably late.

Brain decided to make some small talk to make the time go by faster. “Well Pinky, I am fully prepared for whatever comes our way this weekend.” He announced as he checked his phone, the clock now reading 11:55 AM. “I even took the liberty of educating myself on the slang of today’s youth. Everything from vibe checks to poggers...I had to make sure that the latter word wasn’t a derogatory slur. Thankfully it’s just a synonym for an excited, surprised overreaction.”

“That’s wonderful, Brain!” Pinky complimented. “Did you do all that research just so you could relate to the kids?”

“What? No, I just wanted to have some comprehension of the contemporary vernacular.” Brain denied whilst waving his hand downwards. “Now, where are those children? Our driver will be here at any moment.” The pudgy mouse scanned the lot in search of the three siblings.

“Hellooooooo mice!”

The enthusiastic shouts from above startled the mice. They instinctively looked up to see the Warners wave at them before leaping off the water tower with their suitcases in tow. Brain stared in shock as the three kids made their descent. Acting swiftly, the smaller mouse managed to catch the children in his robotic arms right in the nick of time. Once the children and their belongings were safe in his arms, he stumbled backward, trying to support the combined weight of the Warners and their heavy luggage. Fortunately, the mouse was able to shift the levers in his suit and quickly maintained his balance.

As Brain let out a huge sigh of relief, Yakko and Wakko leaned in and smooched his cheeks. Dot gave Pinky a kiss on the cheek. “Naarf.” The lanky mouse bashfully replied upon receiving the friendly affection from the girl.

Brain, on the other hand, let out an amused snort as he gently lowered the children on the ground. “It’s nice to see you kids all excited for our little weekend getaway.”

Dot immediately had her sights set on the mechanical man-suit. She tapped at the suit’s knees then proceeded to grab a hold on the right arm, carefully inspecting it. “Oh Brain, is this a new model?” She inquired, sounding rather impressed.

“Why yes. I’ve made some modifications to the suit over the years.” Brain answered, pleasantly surprised that the Warner sister would take great interest in his work.

“So what hotel are we going to anyway?” Yakko asked. “The CEO didn’t really clue us in on where we’ll be staying.”

“She reserved us a deluxe queen room at The Ritz-Carlton.” Brain answered.

“A hotel made entirely of Ritz crackers!” Wakko eagerly exclaimed with their tongue hanging out. “Sounds scrumptious!” Even Pinky was excited by the notion of an edible hotel and licked his lips.

“That’s the name of the hotel, Einstein.” Dot corrected, causing Wakko and Pinky to let out a dejected groan.

Brain felt his smartphone vibrate and fished it from his pocket. He opened it up to find a message from the Uber driver.

“Come along children,” Brain alerted the Warners. “Our driver just arrived, and we don’t want to keep them waiting.” The Warners gathered their luggage and walked alongside Brain.

“Oh, we are going to have such a fun-fun, silly-willy weekend together!” Pinky joyfully declared while clapping his hands.

As the five walked exited the movie lot, Brain caught a glimpse of Nora Rita Norita, now dressed in her usual business attire, as she led a group of white-collar businesspeople to their important conference. The CEO pushed her glasses upwards as she stared at Brain, knowing his weakness. The mouse flashed a nervous smile and a thumbs up to assure her that he would complete his assigned task to the best of his ability. Once she turned her attention back to her associates, Brain exhaled in relief.

Once the group arrived at the studio entrance they spotted a blue minivan with an Uber sign parked by the sidewalk.

Brain took the time to pack everyone’s luggage into the trunk while the Warners took their spot. By the time the smaller mouse arrived in the car, everyone already took their place. Yakko sat in the middle seat while Wakko and Dot took the back seat.

“Pinky, come sit next to us!” Dot hollered as she patted the empty seat between her and Wakko.

“Okay!” Pinky chirped. Brain took Pinky from his coat pocket and handed him over to Dot, who placed him in the middle seat.

Brain took his place in the van next to Yakko. After shutting the door and buckling his seat belt, the driver took off.

In the backseat of the car, Wakko proceeded to take out his tablet and showed an image from his favorite anime to Pinky while Dot quietly looked on.

“I’ve been watching this cool show called Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood,” Wakko gushed while flapping his hands, which were cozily tucked inside his sweater sleeves. “So it’s about these two brothers, Edward and Alphonse Elric, who have to find the philosopher’s stone so they can get their bodies back, and on their journey, they come across all sorts of crazy characters!”

“That sounds incredible, Wakko!” Pinky exclaimed. But as the mouse looked at the image of the blonde boy and his brother in a suit of armor, Pinky began to feel confused. “So, uh, which one of the brothers is the robot?”

Meanwhile, in the middle seat, Brain was sitting awkwardly as Yakko had his white earpods on and jammed out to the songs on his smartphone. The mouse could only imagine what kind of music the boy was listening to that had him this excited. As he twiddled the man-suit’s thumbs, Brain looked out the window, pondering to himself as he watched the cars pass by on the freeway.

After a few moments of musing and taking in the scenery, he felt a gloved hand prod his cheek. The mouse looked over to see Yakko taking out one of his earpods.

“You wanna listen to some tunes?” Yakko offered. “My playlist is full of oldies music.”

“Well, I can’t say no to that.” Brain obliged, accepting one of the white earpods. The intelligent mouse placed the small headphone into his left ear, expecting to hear pop music from the 1960s or old show tunes from the mid-twentieth century. But when Yakko pressed play, Brain was surprised to hear symphonious violins playing the main theme of ‘For Unto Us a Child is Born’, a chorus from the classic oratorio Messiah.

Brain looked over at the oldest Warner, who eagerly swayed in his seat, humming along to the song. “You weren’t kidding.” The mouse humored with a raised brow.

“Yup, George Fredic Handel’s Messiah is full of bangers!” Yakko proclaimed with a snap of his fingers.

Brain shrugged his shoulders and contentedly listened to the rest of the song. The eloquent mouse spent the rest of the car ride listening to the classical music on Yakko’s playlist.

Once the van arrived at the front of the hotel, the group retrieved their luggage from the back of the vehicle and Brain thanked the driver for their service while Pinky gave a friendly “Love you!”, to which Brain rolled his eyes at.

Once the group entered the hotel, the mice headed over towards the front desk to check in. Meanwhile, the Warners stood in awe as they drank in the scenery of the luxurious lobby. After taking in their surroundings, the siblings decided to release their manic energy in the lobby. Yakko and Dot immediately sprinted towards an empty sofa and started to bounce up and down. Wakko searched for something to stimulate his interest. Soon enough, the middle child found an abandoned gold bellman cart with red carpeting and knew what he had to do.

Meanwhile, The Brain was nearly complete with the check-in process as the front desk receptionist handed him three hotel keys: one for himself, one for Pinky, and one for the oldest Warner sibling.

“And here are your keys.” The employee said as she offered the three white cards over to the mouse. Using the robotic man-suit, Brain gingerly accepted the hotel keys from the receptionist.

“Thank you very much.” Brain politely acknowledged with a small nod.

“Enjoy your stay.” The receptionist smiled.

“You too,” Brain replied instinctively but winced when he realized his slip-up that the employee would not be staying in the hotel as a guest. “Wh-what I meant to say is have a good day.” The mouse attempted his conversational rebound with a nervous smile.

“Love you!” Pinky called out with a wave.

When Brain turned around, he scowled at his partner. “Pinky, you don’t have to say that to every person we converse with! Do you realize how uncomfortable you’re making them?”

“No, not really,” Pinky answered honestly as he climbed up to the suit’s shoulder so he could sit next to his partner. “I like to think that it makes their day a hundred times better!”

Just as Brain was about to come up with a witty retort, he saw the Warners were already causing playful pandemonium in the lobby. Yakko was driving the bellman cart, occasionally pushing his foot onto the ground to gain speed. Wakko and Dot were perched on top of the cart, with the Warner sister holding onto her sibling as they imitated the iconic Jack and Rose pose from Titanic. Wakko had his arms spread out while Dot placed her hands above her sibling’s side to keep them steady.

“I’m the king of the world!” Wakko cheered with their tongue hanging out.

Brain massaged his temple. “Of course, this is what I get for leaving the kids to their own devices.”

Pinky noted how stressed his partner was and decided to ameliorate the situation. He got out of the front pocket and climbed up on the robot’s left shoulder. Taking his fingers, he blew a sharp whistle out to the Warners, who immediately turned their attention over to the mice.

“Hey, kids!” Pinky called out to them. “We have the room keys so you can bounce around in the hotel room!”

“Okay!” They chorused as they pushed the bellman cart over to them. After they got off, the siblings placed their suitcases onto the cart. Pinky plopped down on the shoulder, pleased with the cooperative kids.

“Splendid work, Pinky.” Brain whispered into Pinky’s ear. The lanky mouse felt all blushy and gooshy when he felt his partner’s warm breath tickle his ear. Pinky giggled and instinctively wrapped his arms around himself to contain his feelings.

Yakko and Wakko pushed the cart over towards the elevator while Dot grabbed Brain by his robot’s hand, leading him and Pinky to the open elevator doors. One by one, they all entered inside. Wakko had their sights set on the buttons and immediately pressed all of them.

Brain looked at the illuminating floor buttons and released an exasperated sigh. “At least we’re only on the ninth floor.”

Once they reached the right floor, they all stepped off the elevator and walked through the corridor. The Warners trailed behind Brain until the mouse stopped at their destination: Room 920.

Brain used the hotel key and opened up the door to the hotel room. Two queen-sized beds, a flat-screen television, a leather couch, and an elegant bathroom. The room also had a phenomenal view of the city skyscrapers. Brain had to admit, the CEO clearly knew what she was doing when she booked the room for them.

Yakko and Dot awed in unison, their eyes glistening at the sight of their luxurious room. 

“Naaarf.” Pinky purred with eyes full of wonderment.

“Poggers! This is the coolest hotel room ever!” Wakko declared as he ran into the room. As Yakko and Dot followed their sibling into the room. As Brain closed the door behind him and entered the room, he glanced over at Pinky and flashed him a confident grin to indicate that his studies on current slang have paid off.

The Warners gathered on the sofa and observed the city below them, their faces pressed against the glass as they took in the glorious sight. Brain cast a small smile at the children’s sense of wonder.

Pinky stood upon the suit’s shoulder and launched himself onto the comfortable mattress. The mouse landed with a soft thud. The bed may not be as squishy and homey as the sponge bed, but he enjoyed its welcoming softness. Pinky started to roll around on the bed, laughing loudly while doing so.

Brain was pleased to see his partner enjoying himself. He climbed out of the pilot seat of the man-suit and hopped down onto the bed to accompany his partner.

“Now sleeping arrangements should be quite obvious,” Brain addressed to the Warners, who were still gazing at the city view from the windowsill. “you children will share the bed by the door, while Pinky and myself will share the other bed.”

“Egad Brain, I finally get to live out one of my favorite fan fiction tropes!” Pinky exulted.

“Pinky, we already sleep in the same bed together back in the lab.” Brain dryly reminded his partner of the sponge bed he specifically made for him and his roommate.

“Oh, right,” Pinky said. “But still, we have a whole mattress to ourselves!” The taller mouse crowed, catching Brain in a surprise hug. The smaller mouse instinctively kicked his stubby legs in the air as he tried to resist the forced physical contact. Once Pinky let Brain down, he held the smaller mouse’s hand and started to jump up and down on the bed. Once they gained momentum, Pinky twirled Brain around, causing the intelligent mouse to cry out in protest.

“Nyaaaaaahhh!!!” Brain shouted as he was being twirled around against his will.

Yakko looked away from the window to find the mice dancing atop the mattress. He budged his siblings to get their attention and gestured towards their weekend guardians. The three kids instinctively clamored their way towards the bed, wanting to join in on the fun. Once Yakko, Wakko, and Dot perched themselves on the mattress, they started to bounce up and down. Soon enough, they joined hands as they bounced around in a circle, giggling as they contributed to the merriment.

While Pinky was enjoying himself, Brain kept screaming. As the mice jumped around, Brain noticed that they were too close to the Warners. Brain maneuvered Pinky, guiding him away from the three pairs of feet. They narrowly avoided being stepped on by the kids. Brain needed this silliness to stop before Pinky got hurt.

“Everybody off the mattress!” The smaller mouse yelled from the top of his lungs. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot immediately leaped over to the other bed, obeying Brain’s command. Once the intelligent mouse composed himself, he looked over to see how frightened the Warners were with his tone of voice.

Brain was overcome with tremendous guilt. “I’m sorry. That came off harsher than I intended.” He ruefully apologized. “Perhaps we should go outside the hotel room and find some engaging and wholesome activities to partake in.”

The Warners put on their thinking faces as they tried to come up with a fun way to spend the afternoon. “How about going to the pool?” Dot offered with a snap of her fingers.

“What a brilliant suggestion, Dot.” Brain complimented. “Now, let us prepare for a fun afternoon by the pool!”

“Woo-hoo!” Pinky cheered.

“Count me in!” Yakko declared while Wakko and Dot gave each other an enthusiastic high five.

It took about twenty minutes for everyone to get ready for their poolside excursion. The mice and the Warners were appropriately dressed in their swimwear. Brain wore his green and yellow palm-tree patterned swim trunks while Pinky wore a blue and pink floral print tankini. Yakko wore green swim trunks, Wakko wore a blue swim shirt and red swim trunks, and Dot wore a purple one-piece suit and yellow sunglasses. Brain packed a blue beach bag filled with five towels and various bottles of sunscreen while Wakko added their pool toys into the bag. Once the beach bag was packed, Brain placed Yakko in charge of carrying their belongings.

The pool was located on the rooftop of the hotel, so they took the elevator up to the top of the building. The moment the elevator doors opened, Yakko, Wakko, and Dot eagerly sprinted towards the pool. The children were close to jumping in, but a booming voice stopped them in their tracks.

“Not so fast there, kids.” Brain alerted as he walked alongside Pinky, holding hands as he chided the children. “No one steps into that pool until all of you slather your bodies with sun lotion.”

Yakko and Wakko groaned, their shoulders sagging in defeat. Dot, on the other hand, took a moment to see the mouse’s reasoning. “Yeah, he has a point there.” She concluded.

The three children approached the deck chair the mice claimed. Yakko opened up the blue bag and took out the bottles of sunscreen, and gave the mouse-sized bottles over to the murine couple. The Warners quickly applied the sunscreen on their arms, legs, ears, tails, and noses.

After Brain applied a good amount of sunscreen all over his limbs, chest, and enormous head, he turned over towards Pinky, who covered his fur with the lotion.  

“Pinky, could you be a dear and coat my back with the SPF 50 sunscreen?” Brain asked.

“Well of course, Brain!” Pinky happily replied. Squirting an ample gob of lotion in his hands, the lanky mouse generously spread the white substance all over his partner’s back. Brain sighed with contentment as he felt Pinky’s gentle hands caressing his shoulder blades and working his way down his back.

“Yes!!!” Brain joyfully cried out as Pinky massaged his back with sunscreen.

Once the Warners protected their bodies with the sun lotion, they carried their aquatic toys and made their way over to the pool. Pinky retrieved his rubber duckie while Brain grabbed his mouse-sized pink inflatable pool chair.

The Warners splashed each other in the shallow end of the pool. Dot riding around on a blue pool tube while Yakko and Wakko whacked each other with limp styrofoam pool noodles. Brain drifted off in the middle of the pool, but kept a watchful eye on the kids. Pinky, who was mounted on his rubber ducky like a horseback rider on their equestrian steed, scooted over towards Brain. The lanky mouse desperately reached out his hand towards his partner.

Brain took notice of what Pinky was doing and turned to face him. “What are you doing?” He questioned.

“Poit! Why I’m trying to hold your hand,” Pinky strained as he kept extending his reach for his partner’s hand. “But I...can’t....reach…”

Brain sighed to himself and immediately took Pinky’s hand. The taller mouse’s eye lit up and smiled. Brain returned the smile as he locked onto Pinky’s eyes. Even though he knew Pinky for years, he could not get over how marvelously blue his eyes were. His eyes glistened like a sparkling sea during sunset. Then the smaller mouse blissfully closed his eyes as he held onto the mouse he loved.

Pinky kept his loving stare on Brain for what seemed like two minutes. When he decided to take a quick glance at the kids, he only saw Yakko playfully spinning Dot around on her pool tube in the shallow end.

“Brain,” Pinky alerted with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “I can’t find Wakko anywhere!”

Brain’s eyes shot open and he turned over towards the shallow end, only seeing two of the three Warner siblings. The mice looked over their shoulder towards the deep end of the pool, only to find a grey fin menacingly swarming them.

“SHARK!!!” Pinky screamed as he tugged Brain away from danger. Pinky stumbled as he stood up on his rubber duckie and instantly fell into the water, dragging his partner along with him.

Once the mice reached the surface, Brain desperately clung to Pinky as the taller mouse swam for him and his partner’s lives towards the edge of the pool as quickly as he could. But the shark fin interfered with their escape route as it stopped right in the middle of their path.

Suddenly, the shark fin emerged from the water, and so did Wakko Warner.

“Hi!” Wakko greeted with a friendly smile. The middle child wore a grey shark fin over their red hat. “You like my cool fin strap?”

Pinky was overcome with relief upon seeing Wakko. “Oh, that fin looks lovely on you, Wakko! Troz!”

With an irritable frown, Brain shook his head and retrieved his pink pool float. The mouse continued to swim towards the edge of the pool.

“Oh thank goodness,” Pinky chuckled. “I forgot that sharks don’t live in swimming pools. Narf!” But the mouse’s smile faltered into an anxious frown. “...or do they? Brain, do sharks live in-” He turned towards his left expecting to see Brain there, but was shocked that he was gone. Pinky swam around only to find Brain already out of the pool, carrying his pink pool float.

“Brain!” Pinky called out to his partner. “Do sharks live in swimming pools?”

“No Pinky, they don’t!” Brain spat before he continued his way to the pool chair.

“Oh that’s a relief,” Pinky said. “For a second there I was starting to worry.”

Just as the mouse swam over to his rubber ducky, he noticed Wakko in a surprisingly somber mood.

“Is something wrong?” Pinky carefully asked.

“I hope Brain doesn’t hate me,” Wakko admitted, overcome with remorse.

“Poit! He would never hate you, Wakko.” Pinky assured. “He’s just a little grumpy is all. He just needs time to cool off.”

“I hope you’re right,” Wakko replied as he swam over to join their siblings.

Pinky joined the Warners at the shallow end of the pool. Yakko and Dot waved at the lanky mouse as he approached the siblings.

“Hey Pinky,” Dot asked. “Yakko and I were wondering what you and Brain have planned for tonight?”

“Oh, I already made a reservation at the karaoke parlor after dinner!” Pinky exclaimed. The mouse looked at the children, who all seemed excited at the idea of a karaoke session. Even Wakko started to cheer up the moment he heard the news. ��But don’t tell Brain,” Pinky told the kids. “I want it to be a surprise! Zort!”

“Oh, I love surprises!” Wakko declared as he waved their hands in the air.

“That’s good to know.” Yakko casually responded before wrapping his arms around his sibling. The oldest Warner picked Wakko up, who kicked their feet in protest.

“Let me go!” Wakko chuckled as he tried to free themselves from the oldest Warner’s grasp.

“Okay, if you insist!” Yakko replied, tossing Wakko back into the pool. Pinky laughed and clapped his hands as he watched the silly sibling antics.

After getting out of the pool, Brain walked over towards the blue bag to retrieve his latest invention: a folding web chaise pool chair with a manual crank attached to a metal harness that functioned as an elevator. The sole purpose of the device was to make jacuzzis and hot tubs more accessible to mice such as himself.

Brain walked over to the jacuzzi and secured his device by the pool’s edge. He then took a seat in the pool chair and used the crank to descend into the hot tub. The mouse stopped the crank once the bubbling water reached his chest. Brain placed his hands behind his head and let out a blissful sigh. The mouse looked over at the children, who were playing some sort of pool game. Brain decided to appreciate the moment of solitude while he still had it.

A few minutes later, Dot got out of the pool, shaking the water from her hair. Placing her sunglasses on, she spotted Brain and walked over towards the jacuzzi.

“Room for one more?” The Warner sister inquired.

“By all means.” Brain invited, and the girl settled herself in the hot tub.

“Wakko wanted me to tell you that he’s sorry for that little prank earlier.” Dot informed him.

The mouse felt a pang of guilt for his reaction to Wakko’s antics. He may have been upset that the middle child had ruined the peaceful moment between Pinky and himself, but the mouse held no ill will against Wakko for messing around.

“I’ll soon inform them of my forgiveness.” Brain replied. “I know that Wakko had no malicious intentions with their little joke.”

Dot nodded, happy to know that the mouse didn’t hold any grudges against her older sibling. “So, are you enjoying yourself?” She asked while adjusting her sunglasses.

“As a matter of fact, I am.” Brain answered honestly. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m having a lot of fun!” Dot eagerly replied. “Although I must admit, I need some time for myself. My older siblings can be too much at times.”

“I can empathize with the sentiment.” Brain agreed. “Pinky can be a little too outgoing and energetic at times.”

Dot nodded and hummed. “Say, you wanna know some fun facts about Yakko and Wakko?” She playfully asked.

“Oh, do tell.” Brain answered with an intrigued smile.

“Okay, so Wakko always does this thing where he copies the behavior of people he admires.” Dot explained. She looked over at the pool, and pointed towards her older siblings. “Watch closely!”

Brain focused his attention on the Yakko, who scooped a handful of water and threw it up in the air. Wakko followed suit, mimicking their older brother’s movements.

“Fascinating…” Brain commented as he watched the older Warner siblings.

“And Yakko normally stays in the shallow end of the pool because he can’t swim.” Dot informed him.

“Really?” Brain questioned. “How?”

“He never bothered.” Dot candidly answered. “He tried taking swim lessons back in the nineties, but he got kicked out because he was too busy making googly eyes at the swim instructors and lifeguards.”

“How am I not surprised,” Brain dryly responded.

“And as a heads up, Yakko can’t consume anything with lactose.” Dot said with a twinge of sadness.

“Duly noted.” Brain acknowledged. “I suppose I should tell Pinky to put in dairy substitutes if he wants to make his world-famous cheesecake for Yakko in the foreseeable future.”

“Hold the phone, Pinky can bake!?” Dot asked excitedly with glistening eyes.

“Absolutely! Pinky can whip up all sorts of pastries and confectioneries, ” Brain remarked. “Cheesecakes, cannolis, macaroons, eclairs, crème brule,” Brain listed before curling his fingers, pressing them to his lips for a passionate chef’s kiss. “They’re simply magnifique!”

“Wakko is definitely gonna have a field day with Pinky if he ever knew that.” Dot remarked.

“Oh, indubitably.” Brain affirmed with a nod.

Back in the pool, Wakko looked over to see Dot having a pleasant conversation with Brain. The middle child thought about what Pinky said, that the smaller mouse needed time to chill before he was fine. He could apologize to Brain and try their hardest to show the mouse how to have fun without coming off as mean or hurtful. Wakko finally worked up the courage to approach Brain again.

The middle child turned over to Yakko, who lifted Pinky up in the air. The mouse giggled as he splashed into the pool. “I’m gonna swing by the jacuzzi, I’ll be right back!” He informed the two.

Pinky resurfaced and waved at Wakko. “Okay, have fun!”

After getting out of the pool, Wakko carefully thought about the best way to approach his sister and the smaller mouse. He looked back to their older brother, who launched Pinky back in the air for another splash in the pool.

Wakko smiled, knowing what he needed to do. He knelt down in a runner’s starting position as their sights set on the jacuzzi. The middle child then broke out into a sprint.

“Hey fellas!” Wakko exclaimed. Brain and Dot turn their gaze over to the middle child as he sprinted towards the jacuzzi. Brain’s eyes widened, anticipating the upcoming disaster that was sure to happen.

“Cannonball!” Wakko sang as he launched himself in the air, bending his knees and wrapping his arms around his legs.

Before Brain could react, Wakko plunged straight into the middle of the hot tub. The splash launched Brain about ten feet up in the air. The mouse looked over at the city skyline and back down at the hot tub with a sense of dread.

“Oh dear lord...” He exasperatedly remarked as he began his swift descent.

“Nyaaaaahhhh!!!!!” Brain screamed helplessly. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the worst. But instead of making a crash landing onto the hard ground, he landed in a soft cottony material. He reluctantly opened his eyes and realized that he was inside Wakko’s red hat.

A hatless Wakko looked at Brain with a mix of relief and embarrassment. “Sorry!” 

“Wakko, you must never jump into the jacuzzi like that!” Brain berated. “You could have seriously hurt yourself!”

Wakko winced upon receiving his scolding. “I know…” He mumbled, their eyes shamefully cast downwards.

Brain felt his heart go out to Wakko upon seeing the regret on their face. Then the mouse’s frown melted away, turning into a soft smile. “And I want to thank you for saving me.” He gently praised the Warner sibling, causing them to look back at the mouse. “I would have entered a world of pain had it not been for your creative thinking and nimble reflex.”

Wakko beamed at Brain, glad that the mouse wouldn’t stay mad at them for the duration of the trip. “You’re welcome!” He happily replied as he scooped the mouse from their hat, placing it back on their head.

But a loud whistle broke the tender moment. Wakko, Dot and Brain looked over at a physically fit lifeguard, who wore a stern face as he marched towards them. The three braced themselves for a reprimanding speech on pool safety.

Yakko noticed this from the pool, and he had to think up something to get them off the hook. He looked to Pinky, who was climbing out of the pool, and came up with a surefire solution. The oldest Warner approached Pinky and whispered something into his ear. After a moment, Pinky gave the oldest Warner a thumbs up. Yakko gently picked Pinky up and placed him out of the pool.

Pinky took a few steps from the pool and started howling in pain. “Oh ho ho, I hurt me foot!”

The lanky mouse clutched onto his right foot and rolled around on the ground, pretending to writhe in agony. “Oh ho ho, I hurt me foot!” Pinky wailed as tears sprinkled from his eyes. “Oh, the pain! The agony! Narf!”

The lifeguard then moved towards the downtrodden mouse. Yakko quickly got out of the pool and gathered the blue beach bag and motioned towards his siblings and Brain to follow his lead. Wakko placed Brain on top of their hat, and followed Yakko and Dot as they fled from the scene while the lifeguard was distracted. The children and the mouse arrived at the elevator. Brain pressed on the button, hoping that the doors would open fast enough before the lifeguard could detect them. Fortunately, their desperate pleas were answered as the elevator doors opened. One by one, the four flooded inside the elevator.

Once Pinky saw that the four successfully made it by the elevator, he stopped crying and stood up on his feet. “Oh, I’m feeling better now!” He said in his usual cheerful voice before he skipped along his merry way towards the elevator doors. “Love you!” Pinky called out to the lifeguard.

The lifeguard stared at the mouse in befuddlement. “Love you too?” He muttered with a hesitant wave.

Once Pinky made his way in, Dot pressed the button to close the elevator doors and the button for floor nine. The doors swiftly closed and the group made their descent down to their sanctuary. When they were safe at last, Yakko cackled aloud and soon his siblings and the mice joined in, breaking out into a fit of laughter.

“I can’t believe that actually worked!” Dot exclaimed.

Brain hopped down from Wakko’s hat and approached the lanky mouse. “Good work, Pinky.” He complimented as he patted his partner’s shoulder. “You’re acting is as believable as ever.”

“Aw that’s nice Brain, but I can’t take all the credit,” Pinky explained with pink-tinted cheeks. “it was Yakko’s bright idea to create a diversion to get you three out of trouble.”

Brain looked over towards the oldest Warner and smiled. “Well Yakko, I admire your clever thinking.”

Yakko was overjoyed by the compliment, smiling gratefully at the intelligent mouse. “Hey, I’m always happy to help!”

The smaller mouse smiled back at the oldest Warner before turning his attention to the middle child. “And as for you Wakko, I recognize that you didn’t mean any trouble with your little shark fin stunt earlier and there’s no use in dwelling over what happened. It’s all water under the bridge.”

Wakko felt a wave of relief wash over and he softly smiled at the smaller mouse.

Once the elevator stopped on their floor, the five got out and made their way back to the hotel room.

“Well, I hope you all enjoyed our little poolside adventure, for I am certain that we won’t be welcomed back after our little scene.” Brain remarked. “But no matter, I already took into consideration other engaging and wholesome activities for the weekend, many of which aren’t limited to the confines of the hotel.”

Once they reached the door to their room, Yakko retrieved his key and inserted it in the metal lock. The green lights blinked from the lock, indicating that they were allowed access in the room. The oldest Warner opened up the door and allowed everyone else to walk in first before he entered.

Brain climbed up the nightstand. “Now I want you all to change from your swimwear into your finest attire, for we’ll take to the streets for tonight’s dinner!” Brain explained.

The Warners gave Brain a serious salute before racing towards the bathroom door. Dot managed to get in first, slamming the door behind her older siblings.

The next half-hour was spent getting prepared for their evening of fun. The siblings scoured through their packed suitcases to find their best attire to wear. Dot put on her Spotify playlist from the tablet, not that it bothered Brain in the least. In fact, he thought that the Warner sister had splendid taste in music, as her playlist consisted of pop music from the 80s and 90s.

Brain, now dressed in his light blue blazer and a cream collared shirt. He looked in the mirror as he adjusted his red tie whilst discreetly singing along to Kiss From A Rose. “Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey. Ooh, the more I get of you the stranger it feels, yeah.” The eloquent mouse crooned.

Pinky was settled on the bed, dressed in his checkered green suit jacket and blue bowtie, smiling contentedly as he listened to Brain sing and imagined that he was singing for him and him alone. The lanky mouse admired the way his partner could carry a tune along with his seductive voice. Oh how he could listen to Brain sing all day. Pinky was always quick to compliment Brain’s singing and tried to encourage him to showcase his talents to the world, but the big-headed mouse vehemently denied that request time and time again.

Pinky needed to find a way to pretend that he was busy with another activity so as to avoid suspicion from his partner. He hopped over to the nightstand where he found the hotel brochure. Surely there were plenty of pretty pictures to look at. But as he picked up the laminated pamphlet, he discovered the sparkling gold credit card that the CEO bestowed to him and Brain.

“Naaarf!” Pinky admired. The mouse picked up the credit card and placed it on the pillow. Pinky laid down on the mattress and propped his head in his hands as he gazed on the card’s entrancing glow.  

Brain hopped back on the bed and looked over at Pinky, who was admiring the shimmering credit card. The pudgy mouse shook his head and walked over to his partner. Brain chuckled upon seeing how enamored Pinky was with the glimmering card.

“I see you’re enchanted by the credit card.” Brain observed astutely.

Pinky eagerly nodded his head. “It’s like watching the baby sun from the Teletubbies! Troz!”

“Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering?” He inquired with a cheeky grin.

“I think so Brain, but what if my milkshakes can’t bring all the boys to the yard?” Pinky asked anxiously.

“No Pinky, I was not referring to your dreams of opening an ice cream shop or your chest, as soft and comfortable as it is.” Brain berated as his cheeks blushed to a dark shade of red.

“You’re darn right, mister!” Pinky confirmed with a nod.

“The CEO informed us that she will pay for any additional expenses we make over the weekend. I intend to take advantage of her little gesture of kindness by making as many extravagant purchases as possible!” Brain eagerly explained with a devious smile. “And treating you and the kids to an elegant, fine-dining experience will be the first stop in our weekend spending spree!”

“Zounds Brain,” Pinky awed, but he then remembered what he had in store for the evening. “But we have to make sure that we finish dinner before 7:00 because I already made plans for a fun bonding activity with the kids at 7:30!”

Brain frowned at the thought of Pinky planning something without his input. “What plans?” Brain interrogated.

“Oh, I can’t tell you. I want it to be a surprise!” Pinky gleefully answered.

“I can hardly wait.” Brain responded sardonically. “Very well, I’ll try to find any upscale restaurants within the area, and make a reservation for six o’clock.” The intelligent mouse said as he scrolled through his smartphone. The CEO entrusted him and Pinky with the company credit card and, darn it, he was going to treat himself, his partner, and the kids to an expensive dinner at a fancy restaurant!

“Hey Brain?” He heard Wakko speak.

Brain put his phone aside and looked at the middle child, who was wearing a red cavalier hat with a blue feather sticking up from the side, a white tunic, and a musketeer tabard with the colors of the Non-Binary flag. The mouse was not surprised by Wakko’s unconventional fashion sense, but he certainly admired the middle child’s bold choice of wardrobe. “Yes, Wakko?”

“Can we go to McDonald’s for dinner?” Wakko eagerly asked.

“McDonald’s?” Brain scoffed. “Why on earth would you want to have serviceable fast food when we could easily go to any one of the more elegant eateries in the city?”

“Because other restaurants don’t have Big Macs.” Wakko answered with a confident nod.

Yakko and Dot soon came out from the bathroom and stood beside Wakko. Yakko was dressed in a black leather jacket and a white T-shirt in addition to his signature brown slacks. Dot wore a purple pantsuit, a white collared shirt, and a pearl necklace.

“Yeah, and it’s been ages since we last went to McDonald’s.” Yakko explained, backing up his younger sibling.

“And what other restaurant could provide a relaxed, down-to-earth atmosphere tailor made for the average American family?” Dot added with great conviction.

Brain was secretly impressed with the Warners’ gumption and steadfast determination, but he had to remind the children who’s boss.

“Oh no, I remember all of those times you annoyed me into taking you to McDonald’s back in the nineties!” Brain remarked with an exasperated tone of voice. “Well, I am here to inform you that my fortitude has hardened considerably over the years, and this little song and dance won’t work on me again!”

Yakko looked over at his siblings with a mischievous grin plastered on his face.  “McDonald’s! McDonald’s!” The eldest Warner started chanting. Wakko and Dot immediately joined in. “McDonald’s! McDonald’s! McDonald’s!”

As the Warners chanted, The Brain crossed his arms, grumpily standing his ground. He was the adult in the situation and he would not bow down to the whims of the children. But the mouse was shocked to see his dearest partner join the children’s crusade, chanting alongside them.

“McDonald’s! McDonald’s!” Pinky exclaimed, pumping his arms in the air.

“Pinky! Who’s side are you on!?” Brain snapped exasperatedly.

“Poit! The one with the happy meals.” Pinky sheepishly replied with a shrug.

Brain knew he was outnumbered and outpowered. As much as he wanted to have an exquisite dinner at a high-end restaurant, he had to give the kids (and his partner) what they wanted. With an annoyed sigh, he held up his hands and surrendered to the sassy children's demand.

“Alright, we’ll have dinner at McDonald’s!” The Brain announced, eliciting cheers from the Warners and Pinky. The smaller mouse held up his hand, pointing his finger upwards to assure his dominance over the group.

“But if you children even think about causing anymore trouble under my supervision, then I shall sell you to the zoo!” Brain sternly warned. The mouse knew he was making an empty threat, and the children probably knew that as well, but he wanted to ensure that they would be on their best behavior while they were out on the town.

“We’ll be good,” Yakko affirmed before turning over to Wakko and Dot. “Right sibs?”

“We promise.” The younger Warner siblings chorused, smiling as golden halos appeared above their heads. Dot flashed a confident grin while Wakko wore a more nervous smile.

“Good.” Brain curtly nodded. The mouse climbed up the sleeve of his robotic suit, walked along the left shoulder, and settled himself in the driver’s seat. “Now let’s go.”

AN: And so the fun officially begins!

So originally this chapter was supposed to be longer, but as I was filling in the details, I realized that it was too long, so I decided to divide it into two parts (with part one being over 19 long lol) So consider this chapter to be part one of the Mice and Warners cause shenanigans on a Friday.

This chapter was so much fun to write because it gave me the opportunity to explore the dynamics between the two parties. 

Pinky would definitely be the more affectionate one of the two, doting on the Warners and giving them lots of positive attention. He would have the strongest connection with Dot, since she finds him very cute and she’s always quick to compliment him and show him affection. Pinky and Wakko are both fun-loving, but naive and they’re always looking to have a good time. Yakko would love to make Pinky laugh because that boy craves validation for his humor and Pinky is the easiest to please since that mouse loves almost anything and he would find Yakko hilarious. 

Brain is the responsible, but tired one who puts up with their shenanigans, but also respects the kids and finds them endearing. He and Yakko would have back and forth banter. Despite the two of them not always seeing eye to eye, Brain is quick to praise Yakko’s more positive attributes. Wakko just loves Brain, and Brain shares the sentiment despite the two of them having opposite personalities. In the next chapter, we get to see more of their relationship. With Dot having wit, Brain is able to connect to her the easiest, as the two of them would share intellectual conversations and spill some gossip as well. 

The pool section was fun to write as I managed to come up with a lot of crazy shenanigans as well as quieter moments between the characters. 

The McDonald’s bit was a lot of fun to write, and yes it was inspired by the classic McDonald’s alignment chart (“McDonald’s! McDonald’s! McDonald’s!”, “We have food at home.”, *Pulls into the drive thru as children cheer* *orders a single black coffee and leaves*), The Warners and Pinky would definitely be chanting for McDonald’s while Brain would be that one of those folks who orders a black coffee lol!

Thanks for reading! 

[justletmeplayminecraft]

Shsjsj Halloween prompt 38 with architechs? They’d probably get into some scooby doo shenanigans except ghosts are real

38. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

okay so i might’ve... gone off a little bit. this is more mystery incorporated shenanigans than normal scooby. mumbo-centric, the architechs go to a haunted house that may, in fact, be haunted. mumbo pays the price.

featuring: could a visit to a haunted house go any worse, mumbo is very interesting to local ghost population, unfortunately for him, real life au, mumbo's surprisingly resourceful considering, sometimes you just need two ghost girls to tell u to get moving, angst/comfort, horror vibes, happy ending

warnings: violence, knife violence, possession, referenced murder of children and adults, graphic injuries, blood, mumbo gets a lil messed up, but nobody dies who isn’t already dead

"Why did I let you two drag me into this?" Grian is checking the time on his phone whilst Iskall holds Mumbo's hand like he's about to run off. Which, Mumbo would, actually. Given half a chance he'd be catching the first bus out of here. Iskall raises his free hand in a shrug, smirking at Mumbo's question.

"We hardly dragged you, if I remember, you agreed willingly." Iskall leans closer as he teases him, poking Mumbo's cheek with the cool finger of his prosthetic. 

Mumbo sighs, batting the finger away, "I agreed so you'd both stop asking! I didn't think we'd actually do it." Grian slips his phone into his pocket, rocking onto his heels. The look on his face is smug.

"Mumbo, you should know us better than that by now." 

Iskall hums high in agreement, "Don't tell us you're scared." 

"Lil scaredy Mumbo~." Mumbo brushes them away with a shake of his head. He can't believe he's friends with the two of them, he really can't. 

"It's a haunted house, I'm supposed to be afraid!" He points out. "Additionally, I think it's kinda bad taste to have a haunted house set in an actual haunted manor. Surely that's disrespectful." Grian pulls Mumbo's other hand free, him and Iskall holding one each. Stepping backwards as they move up the line, Mumbo frowns when his foot gets caught in the roots overwhelming mossy, cracked stone planters. He glances down the line, unsure how he didn't notice them bordering this section of the queue before.

"Mumbo, you do know there's no such thing as ghosts, right? You are aware of this fact?" Iskall's voice, despite its taunting nature, has a hint of seriousness to it. Mumbo's attempt at a word disintegrates into several noises instead. Of course, that only encourages Iskall to laugh, throwing his head back at the force of it. Grian slides up to Mumbo's shoulder, bumping into it.

"It's okay, Mumbo, we'll protect you from the spooky ghosts!" Grian sing-songs 'spooky' for extra effect. That effect is making Mumbo want to hit him. Unfortunately, he can't, because they're both still holding his hands. Mumbo stares into the cold fluorescent lights instead, ignoring them. Grian laughs, Iskall quick to join him.

Mumbo will give it to the organisers, they know how to set a scene. Outside of the bustling noise and lights of the queue, the grounds are as black as the night sky overhead. The overgrown lawn brushes the stone foundation they're waiting on; blades of grass occasionally tickling his ankle as he shuffles from foot to foot. His shoes are still muddy from when they were queuing on the lawn further back. He's glad they got off that section. If he had to listen to Grian and Iskall guess what shape the topiaries used to be for much longer he would've gone insane. Another scream from within the house makes him jump, gripping Iskall's hand tighter out of instinct. Iskall throws him a smirk, and blessedly doesn't comment. Small miracles. 

"We're nearly at the entrance!" Grian whispers, voice high with excitement. His fingers trace the stone wall of the house as they move. They lift when he reaches the wooden trim of a boarded up window, paint flaking under Grian's touch. He cringes, flicking the dried paint off his skin. Mumbo smiles to himself and pretends not to look. 

"After what, an hour and a half?" Iskall asks, his voice as tired as Mumbo's feet feel. Grian checks his phone with a hum.

"More like an hour and a quarter." The bright screen lights his face with an eerie glow until he shuts it off. Iskall sighs, the dramatic nature overtaken by a piercing scream that sounds like it's on the other side of the wall next to them. The three of them freeze up, before they shake their heads with gentle laughter, normal conversation resuming.

"Have we got any signal yet?" Iskall asks. 

"Nope!" Grian pops the word. At Iskall's groan, he laughs. "It's not my fault you're so addicted to social media."

"Not everybody can be so dedicated to our jobs," Iskall replies. Mumbo finds himself distracted by something out in the darkness of the lawn. It looks like two children, running in circles after each other. Their dresses look wholly impractical for the chill in the air. And too fancy for the muddy grass. Who would bring their children to a haunted house anyway? Staff members, maybe? Irresponsible parents?

His foot catches on a crack in the concrete, stumbling forward instead of a step. Iskall steadies him with the grip on his hand and Grian is quick to grab his shoulders. The two of them haul him upright again. Grian's smile is more amused than Iskall's concerned frown.

"You alright, dude?" He asks, checking Mumbo over carefully. Mumbo shakes his head, trying to dispel Iskall's worry.

"No, I'm fine. Foot got caught. I was watching the kids out on the-" Where he's pointing is empty. There are no white flashes of fabric where the children were, only the dark murkiness of night. "Oh. Well, they were there." Grian stares out into the lawn, skeptical.

"You sure you weren't seeing things, Mumbo?" Grian's voice is disbelieving, an edge of teasing slipping in.

"No, I- I swear they were right there. Two girls." He blinks, unsure where the two must have gone. He wasn't looking away for that long, but children are pretty fast.

"Maybe you saw some ghosts," Iskall joins the teasing. Mumbo huffs at them both, crossing his arms now Iskall has finally released his hand. 

"You two are the worst," he decides. 

"Spooky!" Grian sings, pulling himself onto Mumbo's shoulder as they step forward again. He feels a heavy relief as they finally round the corner and the dark porch comes into view. It looks like it's been restored, the paint on the wood shiny compared to the rest of the house. Although looking towards the roof of the porch, those metal spikes should've been left out. Someone could hurt themselves on those. Thankfully, the window above is boarded up.

"Finally," Iskall sighs, his shoulders slumping as the ticket checker comes into view. "Grian, you got them ready?" Grian hums, unzipping his coat pocket and pulling out the printed tickets. 

"Right here!" He holds them up proudly. Mumbo twists around to see the ticket man. The clothes look pretty authentic. A neat waistcoat, a chain coming from the pocket, well-fitting slacks. A couple passes their tickets over, smiling as he takes them. Then the man takes out a straight-up pocket watch. They're… Really going for this, aren't they? Mumbo sticks his own hands in his jean pockets. He prefers modern comforts. 

There are only a few more people ahead of them now. Mumbo shifts from foot to foot, his toe catching on the red carpet leading inside. He sighs. He's doomed to trip over everything tonight, isn't he? He looks up to find Grian looking at him, excitement in his expression. He tries to smile back, moving up to a drawn line on the carpet. There's nobody else in front of them now. Oh, they're actually doing this.

Upon a wave from the staff member, the trio heads up to the rope barrier. Past the entrance, the hallway splits into two, wooden signs marking each way. Yet, Mumbo can't help but be drawn to the bored-looking staff member as he holds his hand out. His eyes are a pale blue, almost white. Mumbo shudders when those eyes stare directly at him. He's quick to look away. This place is getting to him. Grian enthusiastically passes over their tickets, oblivious to the exchange beside him. 

"Three adults," he says. The man nods, looking over each ticket and checking the time on his pocket watch. He punches a hole through the corner of each one before handing them back. 

"Keep your tickets on you in case they need to be checked." Grian nods, giving Mumbo and Iskall their own ticket. Mumbo slips it into his pocket without checking. He printed them out earlier today at Grian's pestering. "And you'll need to leave your bag in the cloakroom, sir." The staff member gestures at the brown rucksack on Iskall's back. Iskall puts a hand on the strap, the bag containing their personal belongings. "It's a secure locker system, you only have to give them to the staff member there and you'll receive a wristband." They gesture down the second corridor, away from the queue and the noise.

"I can take it," Mumbo suggests. He could use a breather before they head into the attraction. Usually, he'd find his friends' excitement contagious, but right now it's only leaving him more unsettled. Iskall loosens the strap, sliding it off his back.

"You sure you won't get lost the moment we aren't holding your hands?" Iskall teases as he hands the bag to him. Mumbo rolls his eyes, slinging it over one of his shoulders. 

"Surprisingly, I don't think I'll get lost simply going up a corridor." Grian steps forward, unbuttoning his red coat to reveal the just as red jumper underneath.

"Can you take my coat too?" Mumbo lays it over one of his arms, watching Grian grin. "Thanks, Mumbo, love you." Mumbo shakes his head, already taking a step towards the separate corridor and past the now-open rope barrier. 

"I'll meet up with you guys in a minute," he tells them, precious cargo in hand. Grian and Iskall smile, Iskall offering a wave as they go ahead to join up with the queue.

"We won't go in without you!" Grian calls. Mumbo huffs a laugh.

"I'd prefer it if you did!" He calls in return. He watches until the two vanish behind the wall, their giggles merging into the crowd. The couple behind them are already joining the queue. Mumbo sighs, turning and checking the neat wooden sign before heading up the corridor. He's definitely going the right way. 

Metal sconces light the wall, a dim light against dark, ornate wallpaper. He doesn't realise how quiet it's grown until he can hear the wooden floor creak beneath the carpet. He cringes at the sound, pleased when he reaches another rope, blocking off the corridor and directing him into a smaller room. He looks around at the wooden bookshelves, a cushioned seat in the corner. Another staff member (he hopes) leans on a doorway inside, reading a hardcover book. Mumbo hesitates before he approaches.

"Hey, uh, are you taking the bags? For the cloakroom?" Dark eyes look up to him. It's a woman this time, hair tied back into a neat ponytail. She's also wearing a waistcoat, Mumbo assumes it must be their uniform.

"That would be me," the woman tells him, placing her book on the side table. Mumbo passes over the bag and coat, shrugging off his own to add to them. She disappears into the back room. Mumbo tries to peer in, but it's so dark he can't see anything. How can she tell where she's going? She comes back, presenting him with a wristband, an intricate pattern on both sides of the plastic. Mumbo takes it, frowning as he twirls it in his hand. 

"Doesn't it have a number on it?" He asks, a little curious about what kind of system they're using here. The woman shrugs her shoulder.

"Doesn't need one," she tells him. She reaches over to pick up her book again, flicking it open. "Have a nice stay." Mumbo's mouth remains open for a few seconds too long before he realises he's been dismissed. At least this will make an interesting story to tell the other two. He steps back into the corridor, focusing on slipping the wristband on. Then he looks up and stops. The rope barrier is gone. For a moment he's unsure if he imagined it, but he's certain that there was a barrier here. And a sign. Glancing into the room, the staff member is gone too. Okay, right. He can figure this out.

He looks down both sides of the hallway, trying to guess what direction he came from. They're identical, carpeted floor and metal sconces leading off into darkness. Even the panelling on the wall below the patterned wallpaper offers no clues. With a sigh, he sticks his hands into his pockets, resting over his phone. Listening, the manor is quiet. He can't hear the occasional screaming, although there's some creaking overhead. Helpful. Well, it was just a straight walk to the entrance, wasn't it? He can follow the corridor and come back if he notices something unfamiliar.

His steps are more cautious as he starts down the hall. He's never going to hear the end of it if he actually gets lost. Certainly not down a straight corridor. He'd like to keep his dignity tonight, please. Whatever is left of it. Except, he's fairly certain the hall wasn't this long. Nor did he notice this musty smell until now. He touches a finger to his nose, scrunching it up. It smells like wet paper. Or… something like that, at least. 

Giving up on this direction, he turns and goes the other way. From the outside, the manor didn't even look this big. This time, he takes more note of the closed doors lining the hall. The wooden frames match the doors, with a carved arch above each one. He pauses to look at the sculpted wood. A shield sits on top of twisted ribbon, although whatever was on the shield has been scratched off to reveal pale wood beneath. He walks to the next door only to find the same thing. Somebody didn't like the family coat of arms, then. It's the same down the entire corridor - the wood broken and splintered away. 

He nearly jumps when he finds himself back in the entrance hall. The front door is shut. Mumbo didn't think this shut until later? Maybe they hit capacity. He tilts his head in the direction of the queue, surprised when he hears silence. Surely Grian and Iskall would be waiting for him somewhere, right? That same ticket person with the spooky eyes is at the door. Mumbo steels himself before approaching him.

"Um, sir?" He gets no response from the man. He stares at the door as if Mumbo hadn't spoken. Mumbo closes the distance, coming up behind him. "Excuse me?" He reaches out to tap his shoulder, wondering if he's wearing headphones Mumbo hasn't spotted. 

Mumbo's fingers go straight through his shoulder.

There's a brief, still second where nothing moves. Mumbo stares at his hand in shock, hanging inside the now transparent arm. His mouth opens, brain desperately trying to catch up with this new situation. The rest of his body kicks in, pulling him away, clutching his hand like he's been burnt. His fingers are freezing, colder than they were after being stood in that queue. In a panic, he glances upwards, searching for a projector of some kind. 

"It has to be," he murmurs. His gentle voice feels so loud in the entrance. Like laughter in a graveyard. He didn't see the floor up above the first time he entered, or the huge black chandelier that seems to be waving in an absent breeze. There's no tell-tale flicker of a projector. Oh jeez. He turns back to the door.

Those eyes are right in front of him.

A shout gets caught in his throat, body tumbling over and into the wall behind him in his attempt to fling himself away. His fingers press into the carpet beneath him, legs shuffling backwards until his back is straight against the wall. The man is still walking towards him and Mumbo genuinely thinks his heart couldn't beat harder if it tried.

"Sir, I am so sorry, I'm a little lost right now and- oh goodness I put my hand through your shoulder, what is happening-?" Whether the man hears him or not is impossible to tell, but Mumbo has a sinking feeling nothing good is going to happen if he touches him. He's only getting closer and Mumbo is running out of options here.

A few things happen in quick succession.

First, the man reaches his hand out towards Mumbo, lips pulling into an unnaturally wide smile on a face that has only seemed disinterested until now. Second, Mumbo throws himself to the side, landing on his hands on the carpet beside him and trying to scramble to his feet. Third, the room plunges into darkness.

Mumbo falls straight into the wall, nails scratching the wood to pull himself up. He can't make out anything. He feels around him blindly, finding an empty space and taking quick, clumsy steps into it. He blinks hard. Once, twice. The world is still dark. Except, as he raises his arm to feel in front of him again, except for that wristband. 

He presses against the wall, checking from side to side as if he could see any threat coming for him. Convincing himself he's at least somewhat safe, he examines the wristband. The strange pattern in the plastic is glowing. It's literally glowing. He traces along the indent first, but can't spot any hidden LEDs. Then he tries to take the band off. The band does not come off.

"Oh, this is ridiculous." He can't even fit his nails underneath the plastic. This has to be a joke, right? Some kind of big misunderstanding? He fumbles in his pocket until he's pulling out his phone, even more relieved now that he didn't leave it in his coat. The screen lights up, making his hands silver in its glow. It's nearly midnight. He groans in frustration when he remembers that, of course, there's no signal. Not even for emergency calls. He's an idiot. Unlocking the screen, he goes to the one thing his phone can be useful for.

He hovers over the button before switching on the flashlight, chest tight until he confirms there's no man (ghost, was that a ghost? It can't be-) waiting for him. He swings the light around him nervously, trying to figure out where he is. He doesn't even remember entering a door, but it seems like he's in a living room of some kind. There's a stone fireplace in the wall, comfortable chairs and a large love seat. Lingering on the fireplace, he's distracted from the stonework by the charred wood and ash gathered at the bottom. There's still a hint of amber in the embers, letting off so little light it's barely noticeable. Was it on recently? He doesn't feel it in the air, his arms having broken into goosebumps under his dress shirt. 

The other people waiting for the attraction can't have moved too far, and Grian and Iskall should be with them. He takes a deep breath, calming his thoughts and steadying himself. Yeah. He just needs to find everyone else. They should have lights, and people, and hopefully staff members he doesn't put his hand through. Perfect. 

He creeps to the doorway, careful to shine his phone through it first. The hallway looks identical. Though, when he looks closer, it's in better condition to the other side. Towards the ceiling, where wallpaper was ripped to show the broken plasterboard beneath, it's immaculate. He catches the shine of wood over the door. The coat of arms is intact. He takes in the dragon on the shield. It's pretty cool, he wonders why it was broken in the other hall. 

Only when he's sure the hallway is safe does he continue down it. He guesses how far away the queue must be. Worst case, they've taken them somewhere safe and out of the way. Hopefully Grian and Iskall have raised the alarm for him. He's keeping an eye out for any staff members or… anyone, actually. He'd just like to see another person in the darkness.

He cringes as a creak pierces the air, lifting his foot quickly. He hates old houses. He hates them so much. As he hovers his phone over it, though, the carpet even looks fluffy. That's absurd. He shakes it off and attempts to tread lighter, the little it helps. His creaking steps and soft breaths are the only things he can hear. He'd think as he got closer to the others, he might hear them but there's nothing so far. It's unnerving. As if he isn't unnerved enough. 

He stops so quickly he nearly loses his footing at a flash of white down the hallway. He holds the light over the open doorway. It wasn't the right height to be that man. Perhaps another person? He steps forward, attempting to peek into the room.

He calls a nervous, "Hello?" Then realises he sounds like every white person in a horror movie. He stills when a face peers around the door. It's one of the children from earlier. This close, the girl is unnaturally pale, with almost a glow to her. Mumbo relaxes a little anyway, relieved to see a kind of familiar face. He crouches down to her height. "Hey, do you know where anyone is? Your parents maybe? I'm a little lost." She edges out from behind the door, neat white dress following her. It's lacy around the top, a line towards the bottom marking out wavy fabric around her feet. Which, he notices, don't have any shoes on.

When she speaks, it's with a gentle echo, like a song, "You can see me?" Mumbo frowns, watching her small hand push away some of the tight waves that have fallen from her braid.

"Yes? Why wouldn't I-" He's cut off when the girl's mouth drops open. She steps away from him, taking a deep breath. Mumbo's not sure what he's done wrong when she screams. He has to raise his hands to his ears, flinching at the high sound. Despite his phone's light pointing away, he can still see her clearly. Especially as she turns and runs. Straight… straight through a wall. Mumbo would very much like off this ride now. He pushes himself upright on his knees and freezes. He can feel something staring at him. She wasn't reacting to him, was she? Brandishing his phone in front of him, he spins, dragging his feet down the corridor. 

The man is walking slowly towards him. One foot after the other. Purposeful. Mumbo shivers, can't look into those eyes.

"What do you want?" He demands. "I'm honestly very confused right now, and I'd really like some answers." He walks backwards, keeping distance between them both. 

"It's been a long time since we've had a guest like you." Mumbo swears that voice wasn't so deep before. It's almost static around the edges, hurting Mumbo's ears. "You'll make a wonderful addition to the house." Mumbo pulls himself up taller, straightening his back.

"That's- that's a really nice offer but I'm really, very happy with my current job! I'm sorry but I'm not on the market right now!" There's no break in pace. Only the return of that smile, looking too big, too tight. Like the face it's on isn't made for it. 

"I think your spirit would be perfect to mould." The words make Mumbo's chest seize in terror. He doesn't need to understand the full implication behind them to realise that's not good. 

"Okay. Don't really want that. If you could just- I don't know, let me leave? Find my friends?" That is not the face of someone who's going to let him leave. His back knocks into a wall. He glances around him, panic consuming any rational thought. He's breathing too fast but it feels like he isn't breathing at all. There, next to him. Wooden stairs, twisting up into darkness. He looks at the approaching man and the hall he's backed into. There's nowhere else to go.

He leaps the first two stairs, one of his hands catching himself on the wood to push himself up. The light around him swings wildly as he struggles to keep his phone steady. Using his hand and feet, he scarpers to the landing, falling back onto carpet edged with small metal grippers, shaped like studded semi-circles. He drags himself up using the wall, swaying on his feet and taking deep breaths.

The man doesn't suddenly appear behind him, but Mumbo isn't taking any chances. He searches the immediate area and finds only one direction available. He hopes the others are nearby and runs down the hallway, hoping to put as much distance between him and that man as possible. There are no lights on up here either, but as he gets around, he realises that the windows aren't boarded up. Instead, a full moon shines bright silver light into the manor. Mumbo checks the time on his phone as turns off the torch. He needs to save battery.

It's nearly midnight. His lip twists. Did he read it wrong before? He must have. He was panicking. It makes sense. He's still got plenty of charge too, which is a relief. However, his hope that the change in height would give him service is quickly dashed. Obviously, he can't have too many good things. 

He comes to a stop upon reaching a branch in the hallway. There are two directions he could go. Neither has an obvious sign stating, 'This way!' It would've been nice. So he picks the left for no other reason than maze logic. Always follow the left wall. It also seems more lit up, which is vastly preferable to the darkness in other parts of the manor. It smells less of dust up here, too. He can smell something distantly flowery. Maybe the garden is in better condition than the front lawn? 

Since he's on the top floor, he takes the opportunity to look into some of the rooms. Mostly bedrooms, he notices. A lot of the beds are pristinely made, sheets looking like they've been washed recently. In one room there's a half-full glass on a nightstand. In another, a cup of tea sends twisted patterns of steam into the freezing air. Mumbo enters that room, curious if anybody's nearby. There are more signs of life on this floor. He's taking in the four-poster bed with fabric tied to the posts when he hears distant singing.

He turns towards the sound automatically, hands falling heavy by his sides. Singing, that must mean a person. He leaves the room, following the sound. The haunting notes fill his head in the silence through the manor. Each step brings him closer to the source, losing sight of the space around him. He vaguely notices his fingers slipping from his phone, and pushes the device into his pocket instead. His fingers fall limp once he does.

The room he enters is another bedroom. The bed is the largest he's seen so far, but besides the singing, all he takes in is the scent of lavender. Taking over his senses, soothing his thoughts into a quiet hum. Both the song and the lavender are coming from a woman, sitting in front of her vanity as she brushes long, dark hair. Mumbo takes small steps towards her before stopping, waiting in place. He remains there, watching, letting her song fill his head until there are no thoughts of his own left.

The click of her hairbrush on the vanity marks the end of the song. The woman stands, every movement poised, as she walks towards the silent Mumbo. His eyes are partially closed, head falling forward with his shoulders. She reaches under his chin, ice-cold fingers tilting his face towards her. Their eyes meet, dark brown into light, glassy blue.

"Oh, you poor thing." Her words have a similar song-like quality, dripping with sadness. "You must be so lost." Mumbo's eyes grow heavier as her other hand cups the back of his head, holding him still in front of her. "Rest, now. Rest and I'll make it all better." His eyes slip shut, mind falling completely silent.

When they open again, he's in front of a circular window. He steps towards it automatically. He wants to see his garden before he goes to bed. It looks so pretty in the nighttime. The moon shines cold light onto his face, the glow of the glass enchanting.

Nothing prepares him for the shove. His spine shouts in pain as the world shifts beneath him. Gravity changes and he raises thin arms to protect himself, his feet unable to find the ground. Glass shatters against his weight in a cacophony of noise and he's falling- the porch rushing to meet him, no longer decorative black spikes he can't bear to look at growing closer as he shuts his eyes-

Mumbo gasps as his eyes shoot open. He's leaning out of the shattered window, gusts of wind streaking through his hair, pinning his shirt to his body. The moon in front of him is bright, catching on the splintered glass in the window frame. Every breath feels heavy in his lungs, his entire body shivering in the chill of the air. Outside, the lawn is… Different. The grass is immaculate, flowerbeds blossoming in a way that still tugs at some part of his mind he's not convinced is his own. The once-broken planters along the pathway are shining in the glow of the moon, not a crack to be found. He can only glance at the spikes on the porch, pain stabbing through his chest and arms at the sight. And the queue, where's the queue?

He attempts to stumble away, hissing as he lifts his hands and finds thick lines of blood. How did he not feel that before? He looks at the glass shards where his hands were just resting. In fact, how didn't he feel the tugging pressure on either side of his shirt, or see the pale faces watching him-?

He screams. The girls let go of his shirt as he backs into the wall, pressing his bleeding palms flat against the panelling. They watch, making no move towards him. Simply watching. Mumbo's strength finally gives up and he sinks down the wall until he hits the ground. Burying his face into his knees, he takes a few seconds to just breathe. The girls are still watching him when he looks back up, twin faces expressionless.

"What do you want from me?" He asks, voice cracking in spite of his best efforts. The girls look at each other, expressions becoming almost… Remorseful? 

"We want to help you," one says. She's taller, hair tied into a ponytail by a simple ribbon. 

"You shouldn't be here," the other tells him. The one from before, with the untidy braid. "He's trapped you here." Mumbo presses his clenched fists against his face, making a soft whine that sounds pathetic to his own ears. 

"Who is he? What is going on? I'm just-" He runs out of words to say. The shorter girl looks down the hallway. They exchange another look and the taller holds a hand out, encouraging him up. 

"We should go to our room."

"You get affected by her." Mumbo looks at the empty window in front of him. The glass shards taunt him, memories that aren't quite his own mingled with stinging palms. He pushes himself onto his feet. What other option does he have? He's lost, he's freezing, he's scared. When this day started, he didn't think he'd be taking comfort in two ghost girls. But here he is. 

"Okay. Okay, I'll follow you." The taller girl takes Mumbo's hand. Her touch is like cold velvet against his already freezing skin. He doesn't pull away. Instead, he lets the pair lead him. Away from the broken window and the lingering scent of lavender. Further into the house with more direction than he's had since he arrived. The shorter girl skips ahead, peeking around doors and corners before gesturing them on. 

They come to a stop in a bedroom. It's pretty. That's the best way he can think to describe this room. The curtains are drawn, frills down to the floor. A dollhouse sits in the corner of the room beside the bed, dolls still, as if caught in time. And two twin beds. They're unmade yet a pristinely bright white. Besides dark spots on the edges of the pillows where the covers are drawn back, marking each bed. A glistening red, matching the deep cuts on his hands-

"Is that blood?" He hisses, freezing in place. The taller girl turns to look at him, tilting her head.

"This is our bedroom," she says it as if that should answer all of his questions. It does not. Not at all.

"But- Why is there blood?" He gestures at the stained sheets. His hand is released as both girls enter the room. The shorter girl picks up a discarded teddy from the floor.

"This is where we died," the taller tells him, jumping up and sitting on the bed. Her dress falls delicately around her, blending in with the covers. The shorter girl pushes herself up, sitting so they both face him. Mumbo stares. He hates to admit it, but he just stares. He understood, logically, they had to be dead. He saw one of them run through a wall. But hearing them say it, so simply? How is he supposed to react to that? 

"Died- right-" He hides his face, trying to keep himself calm. "You're ghosts. Of course. That-" Something else clicks, "Blood. There's blood. You two-"

"Murdered," the shorter one says.

"By him. Our father," the taller adds. Mumbo looks at them both closely. They look so small. 

"You- that's so much blood." The taller girl looks at the patch, she reaches out, scraping her finger against the stain. "You don't look like it." 

"We choose not to." Mumbo blinks and suddenly the girls have blood streaming from their necks and staining their dresses, the skin torn almost all the way through-

He blinks again and it's gone, along with his breath. There are just two girls with skin nearly as pale and flawless as their white dresses. He raises a hand to his mouth, unsure if he wants to be sick or cry. They're just- they're so young.

"It's okay," the shorter girl tells him. She's crossed her legs, her teddy sat in the middle. "We were sleeping. We didn't feel it." Mumbo can barely look at them without seeing the red. 

"Oh- oh, I feel sick." There's nowhere in the room for him to sit, so he settles for the floor. His legs shake as he lowers himself, finally dropping with a thud. The girls look down at him, always watching. It's as if he's something fascinating to them. Those bright eyes examine his every movement.

"Our father is the one who trapped you here," the taller girl tells him. "We're all trapped here. Our family, and the people he's got since." 

"The people he's got since?" Mumbo questions, the implication of that hitting him like a truck. "Like me?" They both nod.

"It used to be explorers," she speaks like she's telling a story, her words weaving pictures in Mumbo's mind, "most of them came and went. We'd watch them as they flashed their big boxes or tubes."

"But some of them could see us," the shorter one calls, face brightening in genuine excitement.

"Those were the ones he trapped. We'd listen to them scream and then they were trapped, like us." Mumbo's fingers unconsciously reach for his phone, holding it tight for comfort. Maybe he should write a message. Texts that won't send. Some sorries and 'I love you's. 

"Why are you telling me this?" He asks. "You're trapped here too." They turn to each other, smiling with slight nods.

"We decided to help," the taller one says.

"You were nice," the smaller continues. Mumbo holds his arm up, looking at the wristband. It continues glowing. He gives it a cursory push. Still no give. He’s so lost.

"How do you plan on doing that?" He asks. They turn to each other as their faces scrunch up. 

"We're not sure." 

"We've never done this before." Mumbo groans, sinking back until he's lying on the carpeted floor. His hand presses into his face until he grimaces at the sticky, congealing blood. 

"I'm going to die here," he murmurs. "I'm going to die here because apparently, I can see ghosts and my friends dragged me to a haunted house! I'm going to die!" He flashes his phone screen on, wishing for something. A message, a hint of signal and not the time, still showing it's right before midnight. Not that. The only one out of the three he gets. His hands sting more at the stretch of movement. 

"Are you finished?" He yelps when he lowers the phone and finds both girls standing over him. His arms are above his face as protection before he processes what's happening. He reveals a sliver of vision between his pale forearms. They're frowning.

"You're not going to escape by having a tantrum on the floor," the shorter tells him, her voice sharp as a teacher's. He's going to die and his last memories are going to be of dead children scolding him like he's one of them. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. 

"Come on. Let's go." Small hands tug at him as they attempt to pull him upright. It feels as effective as he is when he's stayed up too late, about to pass out standing up. "Do you want to be stuck here forever? Don't you have a family to go back to?" And Mumbo does. He has his family and-

"My friends. I came here with two friends." Grian and Iskall, what would they think? Would they even find a body, or would Mumbo have walked down that hallway and simply vanished? His mind rushes with questions that he doesn't want answers to. He doesn't want to see his friends search for him. He doesn't want to see them mourn. 

"Well, get up then. Let's go." The shorter girl claps for emphasis. This time, Mumbo does, using his arm as a pillar despite how it hurts. 

"I think," the taller declares, "we should try to get you outside. That's got to work, right?" Her questioning tone leaves Mumbo less than optimistic, but it's not as if he has any other options. 

"But that means going downstairs," the shorter girl whispers it like the words have weight. 

"Downstairs?" Mumbo echoes.

"That's where he is." The taller girl is already walking ahead, taking Mumbo's hand as she does. "But how else are we going to get outside?" 

"A window?" The shorter suggests. She takes Mumbo's other hand, the pair of them taking the lead with no option but to follow. They continue their discussion around him.

"No. The only open one is mother's and he can't go near it again. She's stronger than us, we nearly lost him before." Mumbo isn't sure how he feels about being discussed like this. They're leaning forwards as they walk, looking at each other. Yet they're leading him down the halls still. Walking blindly through the maze that had Mumbo so lost like it’s effortless. 

"The front door is shut too." The shorter has her face scrunched up, dark hair falling into it again. "We're not strong enough to open it." 

"The garden, then."

"That door was shut too." Their gentle bickering reminds him of Grian and Iskall. Silently, he accepts his fate. He's putting his life in the hands of two girls that have no idea what they're doing. Children. He is completely and utterly screwed. He's never going to hear Iskall and Grian bicker again. His hand twitches with the urge to wipe away what might be tears stinging his eyes. Little fingers hold on tighter.

The halls all blend together the longer they walk. They fall into a single file line, the taller girl leading. Only his footsteps make a sound - muted thuds through the house, less creaks now he has two people guiding him. Mumbo's in awe at the size of the manor. He allows that to occupy his mind for a little while. How would you even fill half of these rooms? They must have had servants for cleaning. In its day, this must've been an incredible place to grow up. Now, it's a prison. It's likely going to be his prison. The manor loses some grandeur at that thought. 

The taller releases his hand and leans forward, sticking her upper body straight through a wall. Mumbo blinks. He's never going to get used to that. She steps away, nodding at them both. 

"It's empty." The shorter girl nods in return, the pair sneaking around the partially closed door. Mumbo follows, ducking into a small, twisting, wooden staircase. The girls are skipping down the stairs, leaning on the central column to peer around. They glance at him occasionally, as if checking he's still there. Mumbo makes sure he's in their sight, feet struggling to fit on the stairs. This staircase wasn't made for somebody as tall as him.

Towards the bottom, he can pick up on a distinct noise slicing through the silence. The two girls have paused at the exit to the stairs, listening. It’s a harsh scrape, splintering underneath. Terror catches Mumbo's heart, the beat jumping in his ears. Is somebody destroying the house? What is that? 

"He's doing it again," the shorter comments, her face and voice grumpy. Mumbo is about to ask what he's doing, but the pair are already determinedly walking ahead. He'll defer to the experts.

"That's the only way to the entrance," the taller says, her gentle features pinched in thought. It's not directed at him. The words sink in anyway.

"We have to go past him?" He asks, continuing to follow despite his poor instincts trying to protect him. Their faces are set in grim determination.

"Yes." 

Mumbo has to fight to find words, "That's- that's a terrible idea! He wants to kill me." He presses his fist against his chest at the thought. One near death experience would be enough for one night. He's had several!

"He's already killed us," the shorter helpfully reminds him. Mumbo squeezes his eyes shut to calm down.

"We can figure it out," the taller replies. Honestly, Mumbo would just like to curl up in a corner and fade out of existence. That would be far preferable to this. But, he's already come this far, and they're both looking at him expectantly. 

"Planning," he suggests, "we could come up with a plan." They exchange looks.

"Planning's for adults," the taller decides. The shorter girl is already running ahead, scouting their path out. Mumbo makes a particularly undignified noise.

"I'm an adult!" He calls. His statement is ignored. The girls are storming ahead with a determination Mumbo wishes he had. Maybe there are some advantages to being dead. It's not like anyone can kill you again. Can they? 

The girls come to a stop in front of a corner. The taller puts her fingers on her lips. The harsh scraping is louder, vibrating through the walls. Mumbo can hear thuds, softened by the carpet. He clutches one of his hands tight to his chest. The gashes have nearly stopped bleeding. His entire palm is stained red - he's surprised he's not left marks on the house or the girls. Just another weird thing to keep track of.

The shorter girl pulls him closer, encouraging him to look around the corner. It's the same man as before, that's for certain. His appearance has changed, once tidy hair unkempt, waistcoat undone and torn. Mumbo flinches as a knife glints in the darkness. The man lunges forward, stabbing the blade into the wood above the door and prying at the carving, splintering wood around him. His focus is immovable as he drives the knife in further. Mumbo winces.

A tug on his shirt brings him to attention. The taller girl is pointing to something in the darkness. It hits Mumbo that he can barely see. He's been so reliant on the natural glow from the two girls, he forgot it's pitch black down here. He has no idea what she's pointing at or any idea how to articulate that. With one hand, he covers his eyes, shaking his head. When he looks again, the two girls are frowning, looking at each other. Finally, they nod. The shorter darts to the other side of the hall, vanishing into the wall. 

Mumbo watches in confusion until in the darkness of the hall, a doorway is lit up by her silhouette. Her cheeks are scrunching up her eyes as she grins. The taller girl turns to him, a question in her eyes. Mumbo nods, offering a thumbs up. She nods back, checking the position of her father. Then she points, mouthing a clear, 'Go.'

Mumbo takes the chance, transferring his weight to his toes. He waits for the sound of the knife hitting wood before running, feet light across the carpet until he reaches the doorway, falling into the room. Both girls are waiting for him. The shorter girl pokes her head out, returning with a big grin. Mumbo releases his breath, sinking onto the wall beside the doorframe. One stage closer. He allows himself a hint of relief, hope within reach. If they're patient, they should make it. He checks his phone. Still nearly midnight. They've got time.

The taller girl vanishes through one of the walls. Mumbo stays put, waiting for his next instruction. Sure, they'll have to figure out what to do next. But if he gets through this, Mumbo thinks he could do anything. 

He makes it to the next room, using the sound of the knife against wood and the glow of the girls to guide him. The man is close now. Mumbo breathes lightly, body tensed. The scraping stops. The three wait for it to start up again so they can decide their next move. 

Instead, the knife stabs through the wall with a loud yell, inches away from Mumbo's head.

Mumbo realises the shout was his own, throwing himself away from the wall and falling against a velvet chair. He manages to keep himself upright on shaky hands, twisting to face the door. The girls have twin looks of terror. Mumbo presses against the wall away from the door, a glowing silhouette blocking out the creeping darkness. 

"There you are." The man walks in. The knife is armed in his hand. "I knew I could smell something alive around here." To Mumbo's surprise, the taller girl gets in front of him, digging her hands into his hips. The man stops.

"Let him go!" She orders, stomping her foot. The shorter girl stands beside her, crossing her arms. They form a protective wall in front of Mumbo. His heart aches. The man, their supposed father, only scowls.

"Begone, brats." Mumbo feels the air shift. The girls look at each other in horror before they vanish, leaving the room empty. Nothing in-between Mumbo and the man and the knife.

"What did you do to them?!" He demands, his arms raised protectively. He tries to look around for the girls but he can't take his eyes off the man in front of him.

"I sent them away." The man steps forward. He taps the knife in his hand. The metal glints in his glow. Maybe, just maybe, the knife won't be able to hurt him. Please. "It'll take a while until they can manifest again."

"How can you-" Mumbo reaches for his hair but flinches as the strands irritate his hand. "You're sick. How can you do this to them? They're children!" The man continues forward. That knife is too close, way too close. He'd prefer it if it was on the other side of the house, in fact.

"They were going to leave me." Mumbo stumbles backwards as if the words sent off a shockwave. "Just like you're trying to." 

"They had every reason to!" Mumbo argues. He- he murdered them. He wants to do the same to Mumbo! "And I'm quite attached to my life as well!" 

"You signed your life away already." Mumbo jumps to the side away from the swing of the knife. "You've been carrying the contract in your pocket the entire time." Mumbo knows his confusion is showing on his face. All he has in his pockets is his phone. His phone and- 

"This?" Mumbo drags the ticket free of his pocket, brandishing the crumpled paper in front of the man like a weapon. It looks ordinary. One adult, entrance to the manor, on today's date. The hole is still punched in the corner. 

"It never said anything about leaving." Mumbo's heart drops at the words. Of course it didn't. That's- that's never written into websites or tickets. He wouldn't look for it because it's not like he ever expects this to happen. 

"Well-" he grabs both ends of the ticket, tearing it in two with a satisfying rip, "-I void that contract. I don't agree." Nothing happens. The man's face shifts to one of amusement before he barks out a grating laugh. Mumbo frowns, missing the joke.

"You think that will save you?" The man asks, slinking towards him again. "You think I can't take your soul by force? Where have you got to run?" Mumbo jumps back from a swing that nearly catches his side. He eyes up the doorway. The man is standing in his way but- A plan comes to his head. A stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless.

He kicks, watching the amusement on the man's face as his foot goes straight through him. Mumbo uses the momentum to dive forwards, straight through the man's body. It feels like plunging into a frozen ocean, leaving him gasping for air. But he's out. He's in the hallway. His hand presses against the wall until he gets his feet under him, sprinting into the empty darkness. 

He holds his arm out, wishing the glow of the wristband was brighter to guide him. There's a roar behind him, sending Mumbo's body into violent shivers. He feels like he might cry. He forces one foot after another, hoping that the entrance is somewhere ahead of him. He doesn't know what it'll solve. Maybe it's a moral victory. 

His hopes are dashed when his hand hits a wall. The pain is overshadowed by crushing defeat, the panic threatening to choke him. He presses around but can't find where to go. This was supposed to be a straight hallway! High-pitched, scraping drags closer to him, the sound growing louder. Mumbo turns, frozen before the man. It can't end here. Please, he doesn't want to die.

"It'll be over soon," the man tells him, words like ice in Mumbo's lungs. The knife gleams as it raises above Mumbo's head. His scream comes out as a sob, raising his arms in a last, futile attempt at defence. 

The knife hits the wristband. 

Mumbo barely registers the fact he's not been hit as the plastic glows, growing brighter as it peels away from sweaty skin. Something silent in the air bursts. He hears a scream as he loses his footing to the force. Falling backwards, the man is gradually vanishing, expression twisted in pain. Mumbo's head cracks against the wall behind him. He slumps onto the carpet, thoughts swimming. He blinks once. Twice. The darkness of the hallway takes over his thoughts, sliding into silence.

-

"I think he's waking up!" Mumbo's head feels like concrete. Everything throbs in time to his heartbeat, the voices around him are so loud he can't focus on the words. There's something soft touching his cheek, reminiscent of an earlier touch, freezing cold-

He flinches away from it, head swirling in pain. Another touch steadies him. He realises there's something cool and damp against the back of his head. He raises his hand, trying to touch it but brushing against something else solid, warm. Cautiously, he forces his eyes open, wincing at the brightness that awaits him. There's shadows moving in his vision, one of them speaking.

"-bo? Hey, can you hear us?" Mumbo nods, whining at the pain that movement sends through his head. He rests his forehead on a closed fist, giving the fog in his brain time to dissipate. Everything is blissfully quiet around him, the only noise being distant footsteps and creaking floorboards. 

The night hits him at once. He startles up, swaying before he can even get his feet under him. Hands on his shoulders keep him from standing. 

"Woah, hey. You had a nasty fall. Careful." The voice sinks into Mumbo's mind. He finds himself looking into dark brown eyes, bright red at the edge of his vision. He leaps forward, throwing his arms around his friend.

"Grian." His voice breaks on the name. Those arms reach around him, patting his back robotically. 

"Mumbo?" Grian's voice is confused as he hugs back. "It's only been a few minutes, dude. You weren't out for that long." Mumbo's breath comes out as a wheeze.

"What time is it?" He asks, almost desperate. There's a pause, Grian's head lifting up.

"Like, ten minutes past midnight." There's Iskall. They're both here. Safe. He's safe. "Mumbo are you okay? Besides the head injury and- your hands. Like, dude?" Mumbo's breath comes out shaky with the tears he forces back.

"I'm- I'm okay. I think." He looks around the familiar hallway. The carpet is worn and dirty, the wallpaper peeling in places. Above the nearest doorway, the wooden coat of arms is broken. 

"What even happened, Mumbo?" Grian asks. He gets shuffled to the side as a young man kneels down, a medical kit in his hands. Mumbo shuts his eyes, trying to think. A lot. A lot happened. Oh goodness, a lot has happened. He doesn't even know where to start. 

So instead, he lies, "I- I tripped." 

"You tripped?" Grian sounds in disbelief. 

"When I joked about letting go of your hand, I didn't mean for it to be serious." The joking in Iskall's voice is shadowed by worry. That conversation feels like it happened hours ago. Mumbo holds his hands out for the first aider, allowing him to wipe the nearly closed up wounds. He winces at the sting of alcohol, sitting patiently and trying not to move. 

"Do we need a babysitter for you?" Grian joins in with the teasing. It sounds just as concerned. Mumbo tries to smile. He feels exhausted down to his very bones. He wants nothing more than to curl up and sleep. 

"I'm okay," he attempts to reassure them. "Honestly, I need to look where I'm going." It's so much easier than explaining what really happened.

"Maybe you were tripped by a ghost," Iskall jokes. It falls a bit flat, considering, but Mumbo finds himself laughing anyway. This is absurd. Did he just imagine all of that?

"There you go, all bandaged up." The first aider releases Mumbo's hand. Mumbo flexes them, feeling bandages shift around his palms. It's going to be a nightmare working with this. "No idea how you did it, mind. They look almost healed. Old wounds?" Mumbo hums, allowing the guy to take whatever answer he wants from it. "You should be fine to go home, anyway." Mumbo sags in relief before remembering the original reason for their visit.

"But what about you two?" He asks, "Don't you want to do the attraction?" 

"Dude, we can do the attraction another time. We're taking you home." Grian nods in agreement at Iskall's words. Mumbo sits back, gently poking the ice pack on his head. It's beginning to melt into his hair. He takes it off, offering it back to the first aider.

"Hey." Mumbo looks up at a familiar voice, jumping away from the woman who approaches. She's no longer wearing a waistcoat, instead, there's a dark hoodie. Her hair is still in a ponytail. "Got your bags." Her eyes meet Mumbo's. They glint with a knowing smile, lightening to an almost-white. He stares at her as Iskall takes their stuff. Then, she turns away, waving over her shoulder. Grian offers his hands out to Mumbo, helping him onto his feet. 

"Come on, let's get Mr Accident Prone here home," Grian calls to Iskall, wrapping his arm around Mumbo's waist. Iskall laughs, turning and thanking the staff members for their help whilst Grian walks with Mumbo to the entrance. Mumbo tries not to tense as the hallway opens up, but he does. He only relaxes once he sees the open door and no sign of that man. Grian looks at him in concern, asking a soft, "You alright?" 

"I'm fine, sorry." Grian obviously isn't convinced, but they wait by the door for Iskall to catch up. He appears shortly after, rucksack on his back and their coats slung over his arm. He holds them out for Grian and Mumbo to take. Mumbo wraps himself up tightly, trying to stave off some of the lingering chill in his bones.

A weight leaves Mumbo's shoulders when they step outside. The queue is still chatting away and, for once, Mumbo doesn't care about the stares they get. He's far, far too tired. Grian leads him along with a warm hand in his, past the queue and under the bright lights. The grounds are in the same decay that Mumbo remembers from when they arrived. 

"Right," Grian turns to Mumbo, squeezing his hand, "what actually happened, then?" Mumbo pauses, looking at Grian and trying to tell if he's serious. 

"You're a terrible liar, Mumbo," Iskall informs him, backing Grian up. 

"And why were you freezing up at things? Like that girl and the entrance? Clearly something's up." 

"And you're clumsy but not that clumsy. Plus your hands! There was nothing sharp in the hall!" They're both so concerned, eyes watching Mumbo carefully. They probably think somebody picked a fight with him. They wouldn't be too far off. 

"You guys wouldn't believe me if I told you," Mumbo replies, at last. Grian groans at him, Iskall rolling his eyes. Mumbo takes a second to glance back at the manor, standing tall in the night.

For a split second, he sees the manor as it once was. Windows closed and uncovered, the one above the porch shattered as blood drips onto the porch railing below. The flowers are blooming, the paint shining. And on the lawn, he sees two young girls, running across the tidy grass. He thinks he can hear their laughter in the distance. Then it's gone, returned to the abandoned manor someone decided to set a haunted house up in. 

"There's no such thing as ghosts," he says, turning to Iskall as he parrots those earlier words. The two of them make loud noises, falling over each other in argument.

"What does that mean?!" Grian cries, waving his hands. "Come on, Mumbo!" Mumbo laughs tiredly, resolving to ignore their protests. Maybe he'll tell them another time. Tonight, he just wants to put this entire experience behind him. Curl up in a warm bed and sleep until he doesn't feel ready to fall over. 

He's not going anywhere haunted for a long time.

[c-c-cherry]

Bucci Gang Headcanons!!!

I’m not really one to usually post this kind of stuff, but these are some lil headcanons my pal @jjadegreen and I have come up with while stuck in the same house during the quarantine!! 

These literally range from *probably would happen* to *fucking crack* so y’all have been warned...

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Giorno is one of those people that has a secret sweet-tooth. Like. An insane one where if he actually decides to indulge in it he cannot fucking stop. 

When he does go overboard, it’s usually because Bruno got his favourite ice cream flavour from the store and it’s always at some ungodly hour of the night.

He usually blames it on Mista somehow. Accidentally ate the entire tub of ice cream at 3am? No biggie. Just put the spoon on Mista’s bedside table while he’s asleep! 

Everyone blames Mista for it EVERY TIME and now he’s not allowed to eat any ice cream when they buy it. Mista thinks it’s the Sex Pistols because he swears he doesn’t remember doing it. 

Giorno just sits there like *sweats* “yeah uh no it had to be Mista, right? There’s definitely no one else it could be, right? Right??”

One time Abbacchio caught him in the act at like 4am and they have yet to bring it up.

He would spill Giorno’s big secret, but he really likes to see Mista suffer.

Narancia wears skirts sometimes and it’s not a big deal. He vibes, they all just vibe. No toxic masculinity here. 

Narancia is genuinely afraid of those “IF YOU DO NOT SEND TO 10 PEOPLE THIS WILL APPEAR AT THE END OF YOUR BED AT 3AM” emails.

One time he couldn’t do it because Bruno took his phone away and he sat in bed all night fucking trembling in fear of what chain mail monster would eat his face off this time.

Abbacchio hates geese. No one knows why. Not even Bruno.

Narancia’s real stand name IS Aerosmith, but he’s dead set on calling it Lil’ Bomber because “that’s his rapper name.”

Mista is lactose intolerant but he doesn’t know because he just thinks it’s normal to feel excruciating pain when you eat ice cream. 

“Like how pineapples hurt your mouth when you eat them.” -Mista probably

Bruno literally had to take him to the hospital one night because he inhaled too much ice cream and would not stop throwing up and Mista was like “wait this doesn’t happen to you??”

Trish hates butterflies because *fun fact!* butterflies often feed on not only nectar and fruit, but DECAYING CORPSES of animals! 

When she was a kid, she was walking in some alleyway and ran into a dead animal covered in butterflies. One landed on her arm and she fucking screamed. She will never look at them the same ever again...

Giorno loves to make things into butterflies when they all spend time together, and Trish literally has to suppress a shudder every time one goes near her.

Fugo is one of those people that is basically not afraid of anything, but when a fucking bee comes near him he will LOSE IT. He’s one of those people that will have to get up and run away from a bee when it flies near him.

If you tell him that it will leave him alone if he stops moving, he will punch you.

Giorno likes to make shit into bees sometimes just to fuck with him

Bruno does not like dogs. It probably stems from some childhood experience that went sour, but he does not care. He will be stone-faced during any mission or situation, but if a dog tries to jump up and greet him he will freak. The fuck. Out.

One time Narancia and Mista brought home a dog from the streets and mama Bruno was like “NOPE” and zipped himself out of existence.

Abbacchio found him locked in the closet under the stairs when he got home and made them get rid of it.

Leone was more of a cat person anyway.

Abbacchio eats raw pasta.

Fugo plays chess with himself. When Giorno joins the team he’s like “ugh finally an intellectual” but Giorno has literally never seen a fucking chess board in his life and is too scared to tell Fugo so he just keeps making up excuses as to why he doesn’t “have time” to play chess with him today.

Mista doesn’t shower but he has a BOMB-ass face-care routine. Even Trish is jealous. His face? Baby soft? Ten out of ten. The rest of him? Axe body spray out of ten.

Narancia went through a goth phase pre-canon. Abbacchio was not happy because Bruno kept referring to him as “little Abba” but he let Narancia use his good lipstick anyway.

Mista found his special hat in a street gutter on a rainy day and it matched his sweater so he decided to just keep it. Abbacchio does Trish’s makeup. They go to Sephora together. I don’t make the rules.

Giorno never really told anyone (besides Bruno) that he got his stand naturally so they all assume he got it from Polpo’s lighter and when he mentioned something off-hand about “when I was a kid Gold and I…” everyone’s just like “bitch hold up-”

Abbacchio wears coloured contacts and his ass literally cannot see without them. 

Yes they are expensive as fuck. He blows half his pay-check on them every month. 

One time he lost them right before a mission so he had to pull out his heavy prescription glasses from like 8th grade. They literally looked like this.

I think you can imagine the outcome

Growing up, Giorno only listened to three songs. 

The only reason he had access to these songs was because he found a really old Walkman on the side of the road when he was wandering around once. The tape only had three songs on it; Dancing Queen, It's Raining Men, and some song by Mozart. These were the three songs of Giorno’s childhood. 

He still has it and likes to listen to the tape when he gets sad

Narancia doesn’t know what a period is. Neither does Mista. 

Bruno forces everyone into the living room after overhearing this and makes them all watch one of those really awkward sex-ed videos from the 90s (you know the ones)

It was one of the worst days of their lives

They still have the tape and Narancia sometimes slips it in the VHS player when they all least expect it just to fuck with everyone

Bruno once held a capo meeting at their house (biggest mistake of his life) and all you could heard blasting through the walls of the other room was “YoUr bOdy MiGht Be gOiNg tHrOuGh sOmE cHaNgEs, fOr eXaMpLe yOuR P-”

On that note, Giorno was definitely that one kid who took notes during Sex-Ed

Abbacchio listens to Avril Lavigne

Giorno shaves his arms. It kind of started by accident but now he literally cannot stop or else his arms will look completely fucked up

Bruno has sensitive teeth. He can’t drink water that’s too cold cause it hurts his mouth. Abbacchio makes him tea :)

Fugo plays piano to help him with his anger. He would say that he plays saxophone too, but it’s more like violently screeching into the mouthpiece instead of actually playing it.

Narancia thinks that lesbian is a nationality

Even though Giorno lived in Japan for just a couple years, he’s still pretty fluent in the language because his mother would only speak Japanese to him growing up

The gang has no idea that Giorno is Japanese and when a foreigner is struggling Giorno just swoops in with perfect Japanese and they’re all just really confused.

Giorno doesn’t cry during movies or TV shows, but he’s one of those people who fucking BAWLS during video game credits

Mista and Narancia beat Ocarina of Time together and Giorno was watching from the sidelines and AS SOON as the credits started rolling there were tears.

When KK Slider starts to sing in Animal Crossing New Horizons and your character is brought into a music void and the credits start rolling he tears up just a little bit

Mista is squeamish around dead bugs. Not live ones. Dead ones and solely dead ones

Mista and Trish go thrifting. Mista goes to check the pockets of clothes for spare cash (cause he’s a broke bitch) and Trish goes to buy clothes

Everyone thinks that Mista doesn’t change his clothes but he actually just buys like 7 of the same outfit

Mista sneezes like a white sports dad. You know the sneeze.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Bonus Bruabba shit because Jade and I always go fucking HARD when talking about our local mafia dads:

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Bruno ties up the little strings on Abbacchio’s tiddy shirt every morning.

They got promise rings. Leone’s trying to find a nice time to actually propose but the gang keeps fucking it up every time they try to go on a nice date together

Bruno and Leone watch thunderstorms together

-The rest of the bucci gang stay inside and play monopoly or something when’s its stormy but these two bring out blankets and sit on the front porch and just be all soft and shit watching the lightning light up the sky and listening to the rain on the roof above them.

Bucciarati and Abbacchio have been mistaken as the following: 

Bruno as a woman and Abbacchio as a man. Abbacchio as a woman and Bruno as a man. Two lesbians. But never an actual gay couple.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Yeah so I have no idea what that was. These were taken from a google doc we have together that’s just all these jumbled, crack-filled headcanons just for fun. I’m sure you can sense the pure chaos in this. 

Go give my dude @jjadegreen a hello, sis made most of these!

uhhh let us know if you want any more from any other parts. Cause y’all know we probably got some. <3

[legalvinyl]

Epitomizing Classic Rock Lead Guitar

Half the fun of being a musician is trying to look like, sound like, and play like your heroes.  While this path often leads to expensive sessions on websites like eBay and reverb searching for that next magical piece of gear and alternating between moments of joy and frustration as you get a little closer to playing like your idols but then realizing the closer you get just how much better they are than you - regardless, chasing this dream is a lot like chasing the dragon; it probably isn’t possible but you’re going to try anyways.

In the world of guitar playing, which is a world I’ve proudly inhabited now since the single digits in age, the unfailing chase for ‘that tone’ is something that comes as a universal qualifier once someone gets comfortable enough to rip a pentatonic scale with a little bravado and confidence.  While I love rhythm guitar playing and think it’s one of those areas that truly makes a great guitar player (especially when playing with others or in a band setting), my heart rests in the beauty and magic of the solo and melody in lead guitar playing.  There’s something so expressive, like a direct link from your emotions and your soul to the fretboard that creates a special bond and demands full attention from not only yourself, but also your audience.  It’s a spotlight moment, and as much as it presents an opportunity to sound like a cliché poser, it can also bring a strong moment of glory that feels so gratifying after rehearsing and practicing licks repeatedly until one can play them from muscle memory alone.  This compilation of songs demonstrates some of my favorite and most influential guitarists at the top of their game.  I hope it can serve as inspiration for aspiring guitar players and entertains some rock music fans who just want to groove along with players that make the connection between the instrument and the individual seem more like a spiritual illumination than just a guy pulling on some strings on a dead piece of wood.  

Starting with the most classic rock sounding classic rock possible, we have Paul Kossoff ripping his Les Paul into a cranked Marshall stack (the true epitome and peak of rock n roll) in the song I’m A Mover from the Free Live! album.  That crunchy guitar tone makes up the vast majority of the left pan of the mix, so listeners can hear every detail and nuance in his playing clearly.  And boy does he use that space to good use.  Kossoff combines some tasteful but not overly exaggerated riff-based rhythm playing with opportunities to launch off into vibrato heavy solos all the while keeping a perfect understanding of the timing of the song and the rest of the band.  It’s a tight song that gives the lead player just the right amount of ‘free’dom without getting lost in excess.  Kossoff doesn’t try to use too many notes or pull the song in his direction entirely; he stays central to the bluesy message of the song and lets his fingers do the talking with impactful and purposeful words with every note.  

Next, we’ll move to my two favorite guitarists of all time (which I could’ve used as examples for probably over a hundred songs of lead mastery) starting with Eric Clapton.  This recording is unique for a variety of reasons, but mostly because it features such an incredible all-star lineup called the Dirty Mac which features (get ready for it) John Lennon on rhythm guitar and vocals, Keith Richards on bass, and Mitch Mitchell on drums.  And for you guitar nerds out there, Clapton rips his signature cherry red es-335 into a fender stack that conjures up serious undertones of Clapton’s biggest influencer, the great B.B. King.  The tone is a little thin and snarly for Clapton during this stadium-playing Cream-era time of his guitar career, but I love it as a deviation from his usual sound that also informs his playing and almost shows his personality more in a lot of ways than his typical Marshall stack sound does.  And Clapton is really at his best here soloing over the entire 4-minute song with all the soul and character that made countless guitar players in the late 60’s gush over.  Just watch the video, these are all legends in rock music having fun and absolutely killing a great Beatles cover.

My second favorite guitar player, Mick Taylor from The Rolling Stones, is rarely mentioned in debates of sensational lead players for very strange and inscrutable reasons.  Simply listen to his lead work on Hide Your Love and you’ll get goosebumps at Mick’s ability to combine difficult sequences with endless amounts of taste and feel.  This classic blues song lets Mick showcase his chops in the background during the entire song, and Jagger even shuts up every once in a while, to let him really steal the show.  There’s this sense of control and expertise that comes across in this track that only a true master could convey, and I really think this represents unbeatable guitar work no matter who would try to challenge him.

The passionate, almost violent guitar sound from Jeff Beck’s Let Me Love You is unique and gutsy in all the best ways.  Another very bluesy track from another English group, this track demonstrates how fighting with your guitar can feel like a bluesman at the crossroads who’s truly battling with the devil.  The tone is unique, the playing is inflamed, and the notes are all creative and expressive in a manner that would make a lot of guitar players scratch their heads and think ‘how the hell did he do that?’.

Another angry song from a player who needs no introduction, Tony Iommi’s playing on the track Jack the Stripper / Fairies Wear Boots is genre defining and innovative to say the least.  The song’s introduction almost has a jazzy feel; it’s free-flowing and loose, but the unity between guitarist, bassist, and drummer is so tight that the listener never feels lost and the track never seems directionless.  Although this track isn’t one big soloing showcase like some of the others, I challenge any guitarist who thinks they know their chops to play along with this in perfect time and with the same refined rage that Iommi musters.  It’s a killer track with a distorted metal tone that takes its roots from more bluesy and latin-flavored backgrounds, and it shows that heavy rock and metal sounds can come from fewer notes played with fervor rather than haste.

The last track ends this list like a sweet desert.  Blue Sky by the Allman Brothers is a masterclass of taste and self-command.  Two guitars trade solos that feel exactly like a warm summer sun, and the notes seem to radiate out from the guitarist’s souls rather than their fingers.  Almost as if Jerry Garcia had grown up on a peach farm, the solos are melodic and don’t feel like standard pentatonic runs or played out blues riffs.  Every note is purposeful and connects the phrases together with a real naturalness that somehow makes the listener feel like they’re in the middle of a field on a beautiful day no matter their setting or time of year.  It’s a song that captures a vibe unlike any other, and the guitar playing is so perfect for the track that you can’t help but smile.

Obviously not an entirely exhaustive list as I’ve had to omit a few guitarists that certainly deserve your attention, as well, but I hope this gives the classic rock guitarist a wide range of sounds and playing styles to learn from and appreciate.  Every guitarist mentioned in this list has other great tracks in their catalogue, and I strongly encourage you to invest yourself into their playing even more to discover further inventiveness that should provide countless hours of learning and inspiration.  Cheers and enjoy!

YouTube Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JeFwaWFTGYU

Mick Taylor Photo: https://sfae.com/Artists/Dominique-Tarle/Mick-Taylor-Recording-in-the-Basement-Studio-Nellc

[joon-ipersgirl]

"dance with me" - jhs twoshot

genre: strangers to lovers!au, fluff, tiny bit of angst

pairing: hobi x reader (f)

summary: this is the first part of hobi’s birthday twoshot where he meets a girl on a night out on the town but loses her (a better summary will come later)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: some cursing, mentions of alcohol, not a happy ending rn

a/n: whew it's been a minute. as per, school and work are kicking my ass but i wanted to write something for hobi's birthday. i actually finished this first half on time but was stuck on the second half before i decided i should make this into a twoshot. i'm going to finish it though, hopefully soon. i’ll edit everything later. either way, enjoy :)

full masterlist // part two

“Guys, I really shouldn’t,” Hoseok laments.

“Why not?” Jimin whines from his sprawled out position on Hoseok’s aging leather sofa. “It’s been weeks since you’ve come out with us.”

Hoseok shrugs. “I’ve just been… busy,” he finishes lamely.

“Doing what?” Jungkook challenges from the kitchen, his voice barely carrying over the low hum of the open refrigerator.

“Okay, I guess I haven’t been doing too much. I just haven’t been in the mood? Life is just a lot right now,” Hoseok says as he picks at the fraying carpet on the floor. He really should get a new one.

“So, let us help you feel better!” Jimin rolls off the sofa, narrowly missing Hoseok’s head with his legs and keeping his leather pants intact. “A night out dancing with your best friends. Maybe a few drinks. You don’t even have to bring anyone home if you don’t want to.”

Hoseok is still iffy on Jimin’s proposal. Usually, he’d be the one encouraging his friends to enjoy a night out on the town but starting his new job at the architectural firm downtown a few weeks ago had really taken its toll. He knew that he’d have a lot to learn when he started but he didn’t think it’d be this much, the new programming and drawing systems much more sophisticated than what he’d remembered during his undergraduate matriculation. Hoseok spent much of his free time practicing his skills, exhausting himself late into the night. All he wanted to do was rest but it was proving to be challenging after his friends showed up on his doorstep tonight, demanding he join them.

“I don’t know, Jimin.”

“You don’t have to know anything. Look, if you aren’t having a good time by midnight, I’ll call you a cab home myself,” Jimin offers. “And Jungkook will buy you your first three drinks,” he tacks on after seeing Hoseok’s unwavering expression.

“Hey!” Jungkook exclaims from the entryway.

“It’s the least you could do, Jungkook. You’re literally eating him out of house and home right now,” Jimin says, pointing to the roll of kimbap Jungkook has in his hands.

“You can’t drink on an empty stomach,” the younger one counters.

“You ate an hour ago.”

“Fair enough,” Jungkook concedes. “Get dressed, Hobi. Drinks are on me,” he finishes around a mouthful of food. Jimin beams, turning to Hoseok.

Sighing, Hoseok reluctantly drags himself to his feet. “Fine. But you’re buying me drinks and dinner. Nope. I don’t want to hear it,” he says, holding up a finger. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Yes!” Jimin cheers as Hoseok heads to his room.

Twenty five minutes later, the three young men arrive at Antarri’s. Known for its strong drinks and booming bass, Antarri’s had become their regular stomping ground. It was safe to say a few other patrons recognized them in the dark; the trio’s dance reputation preceded them. On any given weekend the establishment would be flooded with young people ready to let loose their frustrations. The proximity of the city’s two major universities being just over a stone’s throw away may also help.

“Okay! Shots first!” Jimin yells over the incessant chatter. Hoseok shakes his head but follows his friend deeper into the club.

“What should we get?”

“Nothing too crazy -” Hoseok starts.

“Tequila!” Jungkook interrupts, waving his arm frantically for the bartender’s attention. Both Jimin and Hoseok blanch at the suggestion. “What? I’m buying. I should get to choose.”

Jimin shrugs. “He is buying.”

Hoseok rubs his forehead, already feeling the splitting migraine he’d have tomorrow morning. Alcohol never seemed to agree with him and he’d learned many times what pushing his limit did to him. Still, he doesn’t protest when Jungkook orders, “Your finest shots of tequila, my good sir.”

Maybe the night would pass by faster this way.

“Okay guys. What’s the game plan?” Jungkook asks around a mouthful of lime.

“Just have fun. If you’re leaving, send a text will you? I don’t want another repeat of last time,” Jimin huffs and sets his shot glass down on the counter.

“I wasn’t even gone for that long!”

“You came back the following evening missing your shirt and a shoe, Jungkook,” Jimin frowns.

“Okay but -“

“Guys,” Hoseok interjects. “Not the time.”

“Right. This is about you, Hobi. We’re going to have a great time. And you -“ Jimin points his finger at Jungkook.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll text the chat that I’m alive. Let’s go!” Jungkook says, pushing off the stool and heading into the crowd.

Hoseok shakes his head at his younger friend. He worried about his safety sometimes.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Jimin checks in.

“Yeah, yeah. Go have fun. I’ll see you in there,” Hoseok responds. Nodding, Jimin pats him on the arm before setting off.

“Remember, I’ll call you a cab if you aren’t having fun,” he calls over his shoulder and then disappears.

Moving over to a less crowded part of the bar, Hoseok leans against the wall. Already his shirt is starting to stick to his skin. The music blares at an obscene level he feels in his bones and he welcomes the feeling.

Though an architect by trade, Hoseok knew his way around a dance floor. He wasn’t captain of the university’s dance team for no reason. Music was a language Hoseok translated with his body, each syllable corresponding to a particular movement as he listened to each rhythm and rhyme. Closing his eyes, he lets it speak it to him.

It doesn’t take long for him to get lost in the feeling. Limbs moving freely, Hoseok glides across the floor easily. He’s not concerned with the curious onlookers as he grooves to one of Billboard’s latest bangers. A small crowd has started to form around him but Hoseok ignores them as he spins through a move. Then, he sees you.

His body sputters through the movement until he slows to a gentle rock, eyes trying to focus on you through the pockets between people’s heads. You aren’t looking at him. Too engrossed in your own movement as you vibe with the music. Hoseok almost feels as though he’s watching himself dance. Intrigued, he moves closer.

He’s pretty sure he’s never seen you here before. Granted he doesn’t remember every face he sees but Hoseok is positive he would remember you because of the way you move. Blinking, he feels like he’s in a trance as he watches you turn, your hips swaying in time with the beat. Hoseok realizes he’s not the only one watching you. A few other guys have gathered but you ignore their presence, favoring to dance alone. Hoseok chews his lip. Did he even have a chance?

The music changes and Hoseok watches you change your movement to match the tempo seamlessly. He smiles. He would do exactly the same. Smooth RnB filters out over the sound system and Hoseok calms his beating heart, finding his own rhythm again as he slips back into his translation. When he turns, he makes eye contact with you, a small smile on your lips as you regard him. He’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol that makes him bold enough to take a step towards you.

Though you don’t move closer, your eyes don’t leave Hoseok’s. A silent exchange happens between you as you continue dancing and Hoseok matches your movements while maintaining his distance. Hoseok nearly holds his breath as you tentatively step closer. If he were to reach out, he’d surely be able to touch you. He doesn’t though. The two of you continue to dance in front of one another, though not with each other as the song changes.

When you turn - back towards him and continue dancing - Hoseok isn’t too sure of what to do. He doesn’t want to impose and ruin your night but he sure as hell would love to dance with you. He takes another tentative step forward, the space between you what chaperones at prom would call encroaching on dangerous territory. Still, he doesn’t touch you though he’s sure you can feel his breath dance across your skin.

It’s you who makes the final move.

He feels your fingertips brush against the outside of his thigh until your fingers wrap around his and place them on your hip. Jeans slung low on your waist, Hoseok’s thumb rests against your bare skin. He lets his other hand settle on the outside of your thigh, his touch light so not to scare you.

Chest against your back, Hoseok matches his hips with yours, the swell of your ass pressed tightly to his crotch. When you curl your arm around the back of his neck, fingers splayed in the hairs at his nape, Hoseok squeezes you in reflex. The heat of Antarri’s only grows worse as you continue to dance and another small crowd gathers to watch you.

Hoseok has never felt so at ease dancing with another human being. He feels like you’ve been partners since you were three and took classical ballroom together for eighteen years. You read his movements and he reads yours as you trade the role of leader and follower back and forth. In all honesty, Hoseok doesn’t want the night to end, especially when you hit a particularly dangerous move - bending at the waist with your hands on your knees, the push back firm as his hand ghosts your back. He has to stifle a groan at the sight, more than a few ungentlemanly thoughts surfacing in response.

Spinning you around, Hoseok gazes down at you as he slots one of his legs between yours. A gentle smile crosses your face and you rest your hands loosely around his neck. Hoseok gently brushes your damp hair from your forehead. You don’t look away as his hand comes to rest under your jaw. He watches your tongue swipe against your bottom lip as he wraps his arm around -

“Y/N!”

The moment is broken at the scream of what Hoseok assumes is your name.

“Y/N, come on! We have to go! Code Blue!” Hoseok loosens his hold on you as you step away. Before either of you can utter a word, your friend is pulling you through the crowd and away from him. Over the din of the music, he faintly hears you call a “Sorry!” as you disappear.

Stunned, Hoseok stands in the middle of the crowd as your figure slowly becomes lost in the sea of swaying bodies. He feels like he’s just stepped out of a sauna, the trance you placed him in lifting as people start to fill in the space around him now that the show is over. Hoseok rubs his face in frustration. How could he have let you leave like that? How was he supposed to find you?

“Hobi! Hey Hobi!” Hoseok turns at the sound of his name to see Jimin elbowing his way through the crowd. “Hey, are you okay?”

Sighing, Hoseok nods.

“Okay,” Jimin says wearily. “Do you want to leave?”

“No, it’s okay. Jungkook still owes me two more shots. I gotta collect.”

Jimin grins. “That’s the spirit! Come on, let’s go.”

Tossing one last longing look to what was supposed to be a promising night, Hoseok follows his friend to the bar to forget what could have happened.

full masterlist // part two

joon-ipersgirl, 2021

[kuronekonerochan]

The laziest compilation of thoughts about the mess that was Alice (spoilers)

I finish a lot of shitty dramas. Like a lot. I could review them, but I won’t bc there’s too many and I’m too lazy (when you ff some dramas from 45min to 5 per episode it doesn’t really count as watching too many dramas bc it’s really a commercial break, lol). Some I watch for the so bad it’s good content, or love hate watching or just to have something to watch while I eat, even if they’re boring af. It’s also a tiny bit of ocd bc I need to see how they end (even the ones I drop I check out the finale). I only drop the ones that as Marie Kondo says *Do Not Spark Joy, more specifically...annoy me and make me cranky.

I sometimes bitch about it on DMs with ranty spoilers without structure and that reference other unrelated dramas or shows, because ADHD and my mind refuses to stay on topic, which would make it probably unintelligible except if you are in the niche who happens to have watched the other unrelated dramas, so it’s probably useless as a review.

That said, here are some random disconnected thoughts about Alice.

MAJOR SPOILER ALERTS BEWARE

(this is like partly copypaste of DM rants bc I am that lazy biatch. Also, fair warning I will seem super harsh or this drama because that’s the thing about a bitching dm versus a proper review... I am not bringing up all the points and talking about the good and what I liked as well as the bad, it’s just the bad...and although the drama is imo a mess, it does have some good in it. So if it were a review I’d always argue pros and cons...ranty thoughs who cares about pros? boring..I will not be bothered with devil’s advocate).

This was fascinating to watch, interesting but not good... but like a trainwreck.

I continued watching this mess despite the headache inducing convoluted plot (I watched a lot of timetravel stuff and I love it...encompassing all the theories about it, from butterfly effect, to effectively changing the future (with characters forgetting it or keeping it in memory because “eye of the storm” theory, the “efforts are futile and you can try to change it but the future is set in stone”, to “small changes can be made but big events are fixed points in time”, to “every change creates a new time line” and multiverse, etc... and trust me, all of them can be done well when well written or turn out a confusing illogical mess and that has nothing to do with the theory chosen, but with presenting how time travel works for that story and what the basic rules are and sticking to them...or when something happens that contradicts them, come up with an explanation as to why that happens.

 I don’t mean the drama should be an exposition borefest with too much pseudosciency jargon...but this drama gives you too little in the way of rules and the viewers sort of figure out how timetravel works (which is not bad per se, huge fan of show don’t tell...but there’s a limit to how much they cannot tell or the characters chose not to ask just for the sake of plot and not without any logic to it). Anyways, the little “rules” that we gather along the way...the writing doesn’t stick to them and keeps contradicting itself without addressing or explaining it and hoping we’re so confused we don’t notice. Some dramas you just say “eh, forget it, it doesn’t make sense, let’s turn off our brains and enjoy it”, but here if I wanted to try and follow what was going on at all it required “brain on” mode for their convoluted plot twists...which also made me aware of so may plotholes the time road should have looked like Swiss Cheese. I could go into them...but I cannot be bothered and the list would be extensive and still incomplete, so I will just put 3 here bc I can’t help it:

 1) Hot Daddy with emotional turmoil the entire drama of “Oh no, I abandoned her in 92 and regretted it, it happened 1 year ago for me, and now I find out she died in 2010. How was she, did she suffer? What did she know? Oh god, if only I were a time traveler eventually going rogue who could show up and talk to her any time in the timeline between 92 and 2010...Alas, I have to live in misery with the consequences of my actions...there is just ABSOLUTELY no way of solving this. I guess I’ll just keep making unauthorized time travel journeys from 2050′s time agency back to the year of 2020 and only 2020 to constantly be blindsided by murder attempts on everyone everywhere without having a clue to what’s going on when I could simply go back to before 2010 and talk to the one person who is proven to know what is going on.” Here is where there could be a bullshit reason as to why he could go only go to 2020 and not before, but the drama didn’t even bother.

 2) They say Tae Yi’s mom was originally a time traveler who settled with her physicist dad in the past, eventually making way for her to discover time travel herself. The mom is missing and this is never addressed again. 

3) The book...who wrote it? Because I have guesses but they never outright answer it... and if the biatch author knew that stuff why the alice in wonderland stupid analogies?

 Coward, or petty, or both.... or maybe just a chaos gremlin godlike entity who wanted to watch them all squirm, like the author from Extraordinary You...and that I could get behind, but sadly they don’t go that metaphysical/theological with the plot...which is honestly the main problem with this drama. It seems ambitious in concept but it’s never explored decently in any way, not in the pseudoscience, not in the philosophical sense of the meaning of time/space/existence, not even in its relationships, with the constant back and forth and weirdness of it.

Besides the timetravel migraine, we had the weirdest directing, that made the relationship between the leads feel a bit too incesty...which was the main reason I kept watching this drama...morbid curiosity of how they wrapped up this mess of a plot AND especially the relationship payoff...would it keep being weird with trope romance drama scenes like the female lead and second female lead facing off and being jealous, or that weird hair washing that felt more sensual than maternal? I knew it wouldn’t happen but my inner chaos gremlin wanted kdramaland to grow some balls and go full “predestination: oedipus edition” with this mess. Alas they sort of did, mostly didn’t. Even that angle was a whole inconsistent mess: there were times where it felt too romantic, then for a short minute I misguidedly shipped the journalist friend, then it seemed the dude was ace, then they calmed their tits with the whole weird romantic vibes and it got platonic cute, then with the memory merge thing finally motherly vibes, then I shipped the journalist again for 1 sec only...and then the ending:

Alice ended with the lead solving every problem by shooting himself (technically) in the head...and that's the second meta perfectly fitting ending for a drama with a good cast and terrible writing that drove itself into a corner this year, after the sleepless princess ended with the leads jumping off a cliff. I don't think it's a self aware choice of the writers, or an admission that they themselves know it was bad, but the irony is delicious.

Spoiler for the ending: he undoes timey wimey stuff from when his mom first got killed in high school and closed the time travel door. So he became an architect and new Tae Yi just woke up in her bed remembering everything, but in reality she had just come back from a conference abroad and had never met him. So mom TaeYi didn't die then, but never got back on screen after the time undo so who the f knows what happened to her. 

Also, if new Tae Yi remembers, does that mean hot daddy from the future does as well, but he is just stuck in the future without a time door to ever see them again? The drama doesn’t care answering that and forgets his character is even a thing...I will miss you, my fave who looked emotionally and literally constipated 24/7 (it doesn’t care answering much at all tbf... a little known fact about the time travel paradoxes according to the physics of this world is that besides doppelganger chickenpox it induces severe lazy writing).

Anyways new Tae Yi went looking for architect (? okay...I guess) ML after she woke up, at first he didn't remember her, but it ends with him meeting her, apparently remembering her and they stare at each other... you know, like any bad traditional romantic kdrama finale....so there is still THAT vibe. 

Honestly, the usual romantic ballad score for scenes between the leads WAS NOT the most intelligent choice for this drama in specific but boy did they stick with it (not to mention the ending song... that goes, in english “we be like Bonnie and Clyde we ride or die...which...k, sure)...so technically the ending was exactly the cliche post amnesia running back to each other and staring for the final scene while romantic music blasts trope. Take it as you will.

[mountainmusicgroup]

Managing your Music - Part one

Defining your sound

At MMG we like to teach people how to manage themselves, but we appreciate that sometimes depending on each individual’s situation a Manager might be the answer!

Who knows? Every Artist or band is different.

We have created a series of blogs to help you with a few ‘Beginner Level’ considerations before you tread any further down your musical path. You need to have this stuff down, regardless!

WHERE WE START : Know who you are artistically

This isn’t about pigeon holing your sound…it’s about creating a way to tell someone who doesn’t know you (or your music) where you sit.

Imagine that a busy executive doesn’t have the time to delve into every tiny detail or contradiction from you about what you do. They want to know instantly where to place you and if you are worth a punt. They might not want to develop you, they might want you ready.

Hopefully a potential manager will listen to your music, and find that it clicks!

If you know what you are, and communicate this effectively, then they will understand where you are coming from, and they should know the trends and the industry well enough to be able to push you in the right direction.

The best way to start this is to create the dreaded ‘Elevator Pitch’.

If you got into an elevator (or a ‘lift’ to us Brits) with a big cheese of the music world and you had to describe your music to them before they exit in a few floors time….what would you say?!

Usually when presented with this question in real life, the answer is

“Well, it’s kind of a bit (Insert generic term) but a bit more (Insert generic term)”

I am really sorry to let you know that any vagueness doesn’t cut it.

This watery response is yawn-generating to anyone that listens to new music day in day out. They want you to know what you are and sell it to them, at the click of a finger.

Even if that means you are simply good old fashioned classic rock or avant-garde post punk theatrical ska.

When put on the spot about something so personal to you, it can be very hard to sum it up. Think it as a verbal way to get a foot in the door…will they think of you later with intrigue?

Or will they think there is a gap for you in the market at this time?

You don’t know what a manager, or a booker, or a casting director, or in fact anyone that hires musicians is looking for, so stop double guessing and aim to be unashamedly you.

Most things have been done before so the first rule is to know you haven’t invented the wheel.

But YOUR sound and what you do is UNIQUE.

It is unique to you and that is where the magic happens. Find what that spark is… and then you are on the road to creating music that is authentically you, and someone somewhere in the world will love it, relate to it, and buy it.

I have held many workshops, lectures and seminars in the power of defining your sound.

I work with the participants to define their sound on their terms, and then we listen to their music and make the necessary changes.

I have lost count of the times being told a band is Indie Rock, to find they are in fact more pop based. How we view our music might not be coming across to the outside world….and those are the customers in a business sense, so we need to always look from another perspective (which isn’t always natural!).

There are a few rules that you need to get your head around if you haven’t already.

Being commercial isn’t selling out.

How you view your music is a personal choice, and the important question of ‘why?’ raises its head. Do you want to sell your music or just make it for fun? If you want to be recognised and sell records and get booked for gigs and perform your songs then being commercial needs to come in somewhere. Don’t associate commercial with cheesy pop or novelty records.

Alternative to what?

In my seminars I ban the word ‘Alternative’ unless its backed up with more detail.

One session I had four bands in a row describe themselves as alternative.

My response : “So, you are all alternative? So there is nothing different about you, because you are all the same?”

When we listened to them perform later it turns out one was alternative folk, one was indie pop, one was alt-jazz and one was actually simply hard rock. VERY different sounds when compared with each other.

Alternative tells us nothing without the second part.

If you feel that you are alternative then tell us what you are an alternative to.

I realised that young bands want so desperately to be different. And that is a good thing.

But giving yourself a quirky elevator pitch might be misleading.

You are what you are - own it.

Indie = Independent

Does that say anything about your sound? (Another banned word if not)

It may do…I can write a whole book on the characteristics of singing Indie (it’s fascinating), and there is more to the style than maybe meets the eye. But when defining your sound this may or may not be vague, so use Indie with caution.

If you are an unpolished band and sing in your accent - then maybe you are straight up Indie, but like the word alternative, it’s helpful at these initial stages to back it up.

Remember this is not about putting yourself in a pigeon hole.

Of course you must evolve and experiment.

Nothing is set in stone, but if you only get that one chance then don’t mess it up by being vague, taking ten minutes explaining what your music is like, with the recipient walking away confused and being none the wiser, is not going to help you progress.

Now, about that elevator pitch. Keep it short and snappy.

I know many bands that have agonised over the elevator pitch. Don’t overthink it, just remember you want to keep it concise yet memorable.

There are many sub-genres that come into play.

Do you feel that you are in-between two genres? Put them together and what do you get?

Who are you influenced by musically? Do they bolt on and alter the description of your sound?

Research the genre you think you might be, and listen to some other artists because you might find that you have described yourself as Indie Rock yet you are in fact Noise pop. Or traditional RnB not necessarily Neo-soul.

And don’t be afraid to say you are just simply good old fashioned pop.

Or that you are just a really tight soul band.

Or experimental jazz.

We all need music whether it’s in it’s purest form or something off the wall.

With Spotify playlists skewing the younger generation’s genre knowledge, please don’t describe your music in the form of a playlist title. Calling yourself ‘Coffee morning’ or ‘Sunday Vibes’ means nothing. I write this as I have witnessed this in the past year.

Remember most people that are in a position to network and manage or help you, are ‘likely’ to be older. You might need to have a description for you and a description for the older folk.

IF you need help working out what the bloomin’ heck you are now, then feel free to post a link to your music here or get in touch via our website and we will help you.

Once you have found your sound, keep an eye out for the next part in this series where we will look at your artistic persona and what a manager may ask of you in an initial meeting.

Don't forget to follow us on Social Media and keep in touch about your music!

www.mountainmusicgroup.com

hello@moutainmusicgroup.com

Insta: @mountain_music_group